


In You and I, There's A New Land

by evvi



Category: Dragon Quest Builders (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, During Canon, Eventual Romance, F/M, Malroth's Particular Social Ineptitude, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-08-13 21:55:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20181334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evvi/pseuds/evvi
Summary: Malroth wakes up on the beach alone, with no memories. He's OK with that.Then Cora busts her way through the sand. Turns out, he's pretty OK with that too.





	1. Only Child of the Universe

**Chapter 1: Only Child of the Universe  
** _The Last of the Real Ones – Fall Out Boy_

Malroth wakes up to a tickling sensation in his feet. It’s odd – and not altogether unpleasant. It feels like….water?

He gets to his feet carefully, clutching the back of his head. “Ow,” he groans. There’s an odd pulsing sensation – but it clears as he digs his feet into the sand, getting his balance. “Okay, steady, Malroth,” he says, putting his hands on his hips and surveying his surroundings.

He’s….on a beach. “There’s nothing…here,” he says – out loud, to himself, with no one around to hear him. “The whole place is – deserted.”

At least, from what he can tell at eye level. “What is this place, anyway… How did I even get here?” he wonders aloud.

It’s – oddly beautiful, if barren. He squints at the sun, trying to get his bearings, and a flash of sense memory tells him that it’s not supposed to be…sunset? “The sky’s such a strange color,” he mutters. For some reason, he was expecting it to be…redder. “Did I die and go to Heaven?”

After wandering around for a bit, he finds the remains of an old, tattered ship, and several bodies on the beach. “Or Hell, more likely…” he murmurs. He doesn’t think Heaven is supposed to come with a lot of corpses, but maybe that’s just him.

He decides to circle back – wouldn’t do to get more lost than he already is – and ends up hopping up on top of a rocky outcropping he wandered past earlier, hoping to get a better look at things. No sooner does he reach the top than he hears a loud grunt, and a noise like quickly shifting sand cuts through the gentle sloshing of the waves.

Malroth turns just in time for a young woman to burst through the other side of the sand.

She looks to be about his age – maybe, not like he remembers anything but his name – and she’s dressed in a bright, chevron-patterned dress, a yellow kerchief around her neck. She has a sturdy-looking leather bookbag strapped to her back, and looks about as bewildered as he is, brandishing a stick with wide eyes like she’s surprised to see him, and isn’t sure whether to fight or flee.

Good. Maybe she’s a local, or at least someone else who can tell him where in the world he is. “Finally, a live one! Hey, Pigtails!” he calls, throwing up a friendly hand to show he doesn’t mean any harm to her. “Who the heck are you?”

“Name’s Cora,” she calls back, as he jumps down to join her, the soft sand padding his landing. “I think I’m lost.”

“Well, hey, lost Cora,” Malroth says with a grin. “Say, you wouldn’t happen to know how we wound up here, would you? Personally, I have no idea how I got on this beach, or what I’m supposed to be doing here.”

“I was on a ship that sank,” Cora offers, shaking his offered hand. “Then I woke up on the beach. Pretty much all a blur from there.”

“Oh, yeah? I thought I saw a bunch of broken wood on the shore,” Malroth agrees. That makes sense. He must’ve been one of the other people on the boat. Maybe he hit his head or something. “So how come you didn’t cark it too? What’s your story?” he asks.

“I’m an apprentice builder,” Cora says. “I got captured, but the ship got caught in some kind of big storm. It tore up the hull pretty good. I’m surprised we ended up so close to land. I guess we got lucky.”

“A builder, huh?” Malroth says. “Never heard of one of them before. Congratulations, I guess.”

She gives him a little laugh, and he smiles back at her. “Anyway, my name’s Malroth,” he continues. Then he perks up. “Hey, you said you were in a wreck, right? You wanna see something really gruesome?!”

Cora gives him a dubious look, one fist clutching her stick a little tighter, and doesn’t move. “Aw, come on, what’s the matter?” he asks, squinting at her. “You’re not squeamish, are you?”

“Just wanna know how gruesome we’re talking,” Cora says tentatively.

“Plenty!” Malroth assures her. She must be tired, but it’s totally worth it, so she’ll just have to suck it up. He hops ahead and waves her over. “Come on, you won’t be disappointed!”

Cora is either still shaky from the shipwreck, or has the attention span of a gnat, because it takes multiple times of Malroth calling “Oi! It’s this way! Over here!” before she gets on the right track. Her eyes are wide, taking in everything she’s seeing, and she keeps stumbling over rocks and wet kelp like they’re the most interesting thing that’s ever happened to her. “Hey, stop whacking stuff with that stick and get over here, slowpoke,” he says, and finally she hesitantly wanders over, jaw dropping as she takes in the massive wreck, the bodies floating on the shore.

“Now that’s what I call ‘dead in the water’! Bet you’ve never seen anything like this before, eh?” Malroth announces cheerfully. “Looks like you and me are the only survivors from the shipwreck.”

Cora snaps her mouth shut and gives a hard swallow as she looks over the bodies. “I think these are all people from the ship,” she says tentatively. “I remember seeing some of them in the cells. These are the prisoners. We must have all washed up here.”

“Lucky for us. Guess it was a little less lucky for them,” Malroth acknowledges, nudging the hand of a body with his foot.

“Malroth, right?” Cora looks up and squints at him. “They were having me repair the ship after we started to take hits – I thought I saw just about everybody on the ship, but I don’t remember seeing you on board.”

“Really?” Malroth scratches the back of his head. “…But if I wasn’t on your ship, then how did I –“

A loud, wet-sounding cough and a splutter interrupts his train of thought, both of them nearly jumping out of their skins. “What the?!” Malroth cries, and then looks over to where a pink-haired woman he’d thought was a corpse is groaning, throwing up what looks like a huge lungful of water. “Hey, that girl isn’t dead after all!”

“She sounds terrible,” Cora says, rushing over. “Are you okay?” she asks, and the pink-haired girl shakes her head.

“She sounds like she’s in a pretty bad way, Cora,” Malroth says. “We should probably do the right thing and put her out of her misery.”

“Don’t be silly, she’ll be fine,” Cora chides, stepping back as the girl staggers to her feet. “Hi there, you gave us a fright. Are you OK?”

“Ugh,” the girl groans, clutching her ribcage. “Ow….” As she looks away from them, she murmurs, “Where am I? How did I get here?”

“Shipwrecked on a deserted island,” Malroth announces cheerfully. “Welcome to the club! Thought you were a goner.”

The pink-haired girl lets out an unholy screech, with a rather nimble leap backwards for a girl who looked half-dead a minute ago. “You’re p-p-pirates, aren’t you?! Filthy, freebooting brigands who shall take me captive and demand a ransom for my safe return!” she yells.

Before Malroth or Cora can so much as respond, the pink-haired girl makes a run for it, running directly for a rocky hut carved into the underside of a sharp cliff and huddling behind it. “There she goes,” Malroth says, amused. “She’s got a mouth on her, hasn’t she?”

“Sure does,” Cora laughs. “I didn’t expect her to say so much after puking up all that water. Guess she’s a talker.”

“There’s only one way to make sure she shuts up for good,” Malroth says, as they wander over to the rocky shack. “Mind if I do the honors?”

“Malroth,” Cora chides, laughing. Malroth was only half-joking, but OK. Murdering people who annoy her must not be her shtick. Whatever, he can be flexible. “Leave her be, she’s probably scared out of her mind,” Cora adds. “Let’s calm her down and then see what she has to say.”

“Get away from me, you villains!” the girl screeches. Then, after a moment of consideration, she huffs. “Well, if you’re going to take me captive, at least tell me where we are and how I got here.”

“We’re on an island with nothing but sand, rocks and a few corpses to keep us company,” Malroth begins. ”You must’ve washed up here with Cora when your ship sank.”

“Cora? That sounds familiar…do I know you?” The girl drops the hysterics and, after a quizzical look, looks up with a calculating glare. “Yes, I remember! You’re that builder from the ship! The one who ran around grinning while those horrid monsters barked orders at you!”

Malroth looks at Cora in surprise as the girl continues her tirade. “I know you were in cahoots with them,” she says (“Cahoots? I was their slave labor,” Cora mouths to Malroth confusedly). “So that means this is all _your_ fault!” she finishes, with a triumphant huff. “Well? What are you going to _do_ about it?”

“Er…” Cora says. “Well, I rather thought I’d make the things we need to survive while the three of us wait for a rescue party, but I suppose I’m open to suggestions?”

“Well!” the pink-haired girl says, then appears to run out of steam. “Oh. Well…alright, I suppose.” With a sniff, she adds, “Even a _rank amateur_ like yourself should be able to use that worn-out workbench outside to make the most basic essentials. I’m Lulu, by the way.”

Malroth can feel the irritation building rapidly, but Cora just seems amused by her antics. “Nice to meet you, Lulu.”

Lulu seems to ignore her, tapping her chin as she thinks. “Now, what will we need to hold out until help arrives? Let me see…” Perking up, she looks up at Cora and holds up three fingers. “One. We’ll need shelter from the elements while we wait to be rescued. I’d rather not die of exposure before then.”

“Never good,” Cora agrees with a smile.

“Why not use this old shack? It’s rather worse for wear, but I’m sure you can fix the place up, patch up any holes with the shipwreck wood…it should be easy enough to weather-proof.”

“Easy for you to say,” Malroth says. “I bet you won’t even lift a finger to help her.”

“Two,” Lulu continues, completely ignoring him. Malroth’s ear twitches. “Food. We have no idea how long it’ll take for a search party to locate us, so we’ll need to find enough sustenance to tide us over until we’re rescued. There’s bound to be a scallywinkle or two on the seashore.”

“Are those edible?” Cora asks. “I saw some earlier, but they didn’t look very tasty.”

Lulu shrugs. “They’re edible as long as you give them a good grilling on a bonfire first. You’ll need some wood to build a fire, of course – luckily, the driftwood and broken barrels should be enough for you to be able to put them to good use.”

“Makes sense,” Cora says, pulling out her journal and scribbling a few notes. It’s a miracle the thing isn’t waterlogged beyond repair – there must be some kind of enchantment on it? Malroth squints at it, but he can’t tell from the front cover alone. Maybe that’s some kind of builder tool he doesn’t know about.

“Three,” Lulu finishes. “I can’t be expected to put my head down for the night on these lumpy old rocks. I need a proper bed if I’m going to get my beauty sleep! I don’t imagine you’re capable of building four-posters, so we shall have to make do with three piles of straw bedding.”

Yeah, no. “Hey!” Malroth shouts, and they both look at him, startled. “Don’t start telling us what to do, bossyboots!” he says to Lulu. “Who made you the leader here, anyway?”

Lulu rolls her eyes. “Oh, pipe down, you Neanderthal. You don’t even have the common decency to wear a proper shirt! Don’t think you’re impressing anyone with those oh-so-mighty muscles! Right, Cora?!” she shouts, pointing at him. Cora blinks, as if suddenly seeing Malroth for the first time, and goes beet red.

“Oh yeah?” Malroth says, flexing. “Say that again and I’ll show you how mighty these muscles are!”

“Hmph!” Lulu turns away from him, clutching Cora’s hands and giving her the full-on puppy eyes. “Oh, please. You’ll do these little favors for me, won’t you? You’ll save me from this savagery?”

Malroth folds his arms over his chest and huffs. “Er,” Cora says, looking to him for support, and then looks back at Lulu. “I was probably going to make most of that anyway, so I guess it’s as easy to make it for three…”

“That’s wonderful! I knew you’d do exactly as I asked!” Lulu says delightedly. “You can consider these little tasks as training exercises, if you like. Then, when you become a fully-fledged builder, you’ll have me to thank for it!”

“Training exercises? Who does this girl think she is?” Malroth mutters to Cora, as Lulu hums happily and settles in. She looks like she has absolutely no intentions of doing anything but sitting around and waiting to be rescued – Malroth’s _least _favorite kind of person.

“Be nice,” Cora scolds, gently smacking his shoulder, but she’s totally chuckling like she secretly agrees with him, so, yeah.

“Remember what I said before about putting her out of her misery? Well, how about we put her out of OUR misery instead?” Malroth asks, following Cora out of the makeshift shack. Lulu sticks her tongue out at him in a petulant gesture, so he sticks out his back before closing the door.

“Nice try,” Cora says. “She’s stranded here too, you know.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to help her. You’re a builder, not her lackey. Don’t be such a soppy sad case.” Malroth puts his hands on his hips and gives Cora his toothiest grin. “She’s a castaway at the end of the day, same as us. You’ve got to look out for number one – that’s my motto!”

“Which is why…you’re coming with me to help me?” Cora asks.

“Exactly! If only so I don’t have to hang around with her!” Malroth agrees, with a firm nod. “By the way…I’ve been meaning to ask you this. You said you were a builder, right? Is that something to do with a duck’s nose?”

“I’m pretty sure you’re thinking of a ‘bill,’” Cora corrects, as they wander down the beach in search of materials.

…

By sundown, they have a patched-up base, a steady bonfire going, and have a belly full of seared scallywinkle. “Ahh,” Lulu says happily. “The scent of the seaside combines perfectly with the gravelly crunch of the sand grains. Simply irresistible!”

“Glad we finally satisfied your demands,” Malroth sneers. “I can’t believe you left us to do all the work!”

“Oh! How rude of me,” Lulu says. Malroth is as surprised as anyone – had she just been ‘hangry’ that whole time? “I just realized I never asked your names.” When they tell her, she asks, “Cora, I know you’re a builder, but Malroth, what do you do?”

“Well, I’m – “ Malroth pauses, realizing he can’t remember. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I woke up on this island, but I can’t remember anything before that. My memory’s completely blank.”

“Well,” Lulu says. “An apprentice builder and his amnesiac friend. What an unexpected partnership!”

Partners? Malroth looks Cora up and down – she’s a beanpole, tall and skinny, and doesn’t have an ounce of muscle on her. “If you think a guy like me would team up with a puny little runt like her, you must be dreaming!”

“Yes, he followed me all the way down the beach to help me gather materials, so we definitely aren’t fit to be partners,” Cora laughs, rolling her eyes. “Maybe Lulu was right after all.”

“Of course I am. I’m always right,” Lulu says, though the effect is lessened somewhat by her jaw-cracking yawn. “Anyway, I’m starting to feel a little drowsy. It’s been a long day, and that seared scallywinkle has filled me up nicely.” Turning to Cora, she asks, “So, how’s progress on the straw bedding?”

“Hmm…” Cora taps her chin, then in a flash, she whips out her book and starts scribbling furiously. “Here we go again, she’s got her book out,” Malroth teases. “What have you invented this time?”

“I think I can make some straw bedding out of the dry grass we picked up over there,” Cora says, gesturing to the shoreline. She heads over to the makeshift workbench, and before their eyes, pulls together some straw beds and lays them down on the stone floor of their little hut.

Malroth has to admit, he’s pretty impressed. Despite Cora’s less-than-likely stature, she’s hammered out things to meet Lulu’s demands before the night even truly fell. Even Lulu seems awestruck – she gives hers a little nudge with her foot, and sighs contentedly, sinking down onto the straw. “I wonder what Mama and Papa would say if they knew I was rubbing shoulders with a builder,” she murmurs.

“Hey!” Malroth says, leaping to Cora’s defense. “What is that supposed to mean!? She just made all this nice stuff for us!”

Lulu looks at her lap. “When the Children of Hargon attached my hometown, Rippleport…my parents were caught up in the fighting.” Picking at the straw, she adds, “Those maniacal monsters murdered them in cold blood. So I stowed away on that accursed ship, hoping to avenge their deaths…but I was caught before I had the chance to do anything.” With a humorless laugh, she says, “And I guess we all know what happened next.”

“Lulu…” Cora says sadly. Even Malroth can feel himself pitying her a little bit. That, or some of the sand in the scallywinkle is sitting funny in his stomach. “I’m so sorry,” Cora says.

“Quite alright,” Lulu says. Lifting her eyes to the heavens, she begins to pray. “Oh, Papa! Mama! I may be marooned on a desert island with these two lumbering lummoxes, but I shall survive! I pray that you watch over me in these trying times!”

“Lumbering?!—”

“Anyway,” Lulu continues, cutting him off as she turns back to them. “Thank you both ever so much for sorting our sleeping arrangements. Cora, I must say, it’s actually turning out to be a real relief to have a builder around. And judging by the quality of your work, one would never imagine you were still only learning the ropes!”

“Thank you, I think,” Cora says, with a little side grin at Malroth that Lulu doesn’t catch.

“Yeah, so much for ‘rubbing shoulders’,” Malroth agrees.

“I know we’re stranded here,” Lulu continues. “But in a weird way, I’m actually looking forward to it!”

Malroth looks at her like she’s sprouted a fifth head. “Are you crazy?!”

“Hmph!” Lulu says. “I only meant, Cora, that I was looking forward to seeing you blossom as a builder. I shall give you even more work to do! The castaway life might be a bit less luxurious than I’m accustomed to, but even so, I think this could be a fun little adventure!” Turning to Malroth, she adds, “And, as for you, Malroth…this could be the perfect opportunity to absorb a little culture – and maybe even some manners!”

Malroth growls and steps forward, but Cora’s hand pulls him back. “You should be nicer to her,” Malroth says. “Despite all _your_ nagging, Cora made everything we needed to stay alive. I wish I could do what she does…”

“Aw. Thanks, Malroth,” Cora says, giving him a wan but sincere smile. “I do try my best.”

“Hey, maybe I could have a go at that workbench before bed?” Malroth asks. “I want to try making something myself.”

“Sure!” Cora encourages. “It’s not like it’s hard to get started, it just takes practice. Come on, I’ll come watch and make sure you don’t hurt yourself.”

Malroth laughs dismissively. “Yeah, well. I’ve been watching you make stuff all day, pretty sure I got it down. Watch this, Cora – I’m going to be your rival builder!”

Cora smiles. “We’ll see,” she says, and follows him outside.


	2. I Wanna Be Your Left-Hand Man

**Chapter 2: I Wanna Be Your Left-Hand Man  
** _Riptide – Vance Joy_

Cora watches and makes concerned but supportive noises as Malroth tries to build three times, only to have his creation end up in a puff of black smoke. “Damn it,” he mutters, kicking the legs of the workbench. “Why isn’t this working!?”

“You seemed like you were doing OK to me,” Cora says. “It’s okay to fail a couple times before you get it right. Give it another try – just rela- EEP!”

Malroth slams the hammer down with a heartfelt yell – and they both leap back as the workbench makes a loud POP!, smoke pouring out of it even harder.

Discouraged, he hangs his head. “What did I do wrong?” he asks Cora. “It doesn’t make sense…Why can’t I make things? At this rate I’ll never be a builder!”

“Maybe give it another try with less, erm…violence,” Cora suggests.

Malroth shakes his head. “Forget it. I thought building was all fun and games, but turns out it’s actually way harder than it looks.” He lifts his head up and grins at Cora. “Sorry. Guess I’ll be relying on you to build things for me from here on out.”

“It’s okay. Not everyone gets it on the first try,” Cora says gently. “You could try again, but you also don’t have to if you don’t want to. Building isn’t fun if you’re forcing it.”

“I guess. And I guess it’s only fair, too,” Malroth says, grinning at her. “You made all that stuff for Lulu – now it’s my turn!”

“Oh boy,” Cora groans. “Don’t tell me, you’re getting jealous?”

“What? No!” Malroth shakes his head. “I just want you to make something that I’ll like, since I couldn’t do it myself.”

“Well….I guess swinging that hammer around DID give me an idea,” Cora says slowly. She hip-checks Malroth out of the way of the workbench, takes a few swings. When the poof of yellow stars of success clears (dammit), she’s got –

“…Is that for me?” Malroth asks. “What would I want with a silly old stick?”

“It’s not a stick, it’s a club. It’s very hard and I put spikes in it,” Cora says proudly, not at all taken aback by his dismay. “You can use it to fight monsters and break things that are in our way while we forage.”

“I can use it to whack stuff?” He looks down at the club. “Hahaha! That sounds right up my alley! Alright, I’ll take it. Give it here!”

Cora dutifully hands it over, and Malroth takes a few experimental swings. The club sings in his hands, and it fits perfectly. It’s light – if he were really making it himself, he’d probably make it heavier, maybe double up on the spikes – but making it himself didn’t really work out, did it?

“I like it,” he tells her eagerly, and then shakes his head. “No. I LOVE it! Squishing slimes for oil will be so much more satisfying now…and to think you made it using only the junk found on the beach.” Looking her directly in the eyes, he adds, “Thanks, Cora. You’re amazing. This club is the best present anyone’s ever given me…I think!”

“I’m glad you think so,” Cora says shyly. As tired as she must be, her face is nothing but pure happiness. Seeing the expression on her puts him a little at ease – if he can’t make his own stuff, at least she seems to like doing it for other people. “Anyway, are you about ready to turn in? It’s been a long day, and I’m getting pretty tired. I bet Lulu’s already asleep in there.”

Whatever Malroth would have said in response is drowned out by sudden vibrations in the earth, rumbling under his feet like a storm. “Huh?” he asks. “Cora, can you feel that?”

“Yeah,” Cora agrees. She looks pretty freaked – Malroth guesses he can’t blame her. If he were her size, he’d be afraid too. “Do you think it’s more monsters?”

“Probably,” Malroth agrees, frowning. He concentrates for a moment, then points over towards the western coast. “Feels like it’s coming from over there. We should go; I wanna break in the new club!”

Cora looks hesitantly back at the hut. “Oh, relax,” Malroth says, rolling his eyes. “Just follow my lead! You'll be scrapping with the best of ‘em in no time. Come on, let's go!”

Before she can tell him otherwise, he starts making a beeline for the western cliff face. Sure enough, after a moment she's right behind him, clinging to her stick like a lifeline. _Good_, Malroth thinks. _Woulda sucked if she was a total wet blanket like Lulu._

As they round the corner, a big bunch of slimes appear, with a portly rat in the center of the pack. “You deal with the slimes; just whack them a bunch with your stick. I'll take out the big guy, don’t worry,” Malroth says. “You ready?”

“Guess so,” Cora says, and gives him a little grin and a thumbs-up. “If I drown in slimes and become a ghost, I’m coming back and haunting you, though!”

Malroth cackles and charges in. As loudly as he can, he yells “TAKE THIS, YOU MONSTERS!” and swings his club wildly. His strategy works – they all focus on him instead of his squishy compatriot, and he can hear the loud squelched of slimes being vanquished behind him as he starts smacking the heck out of the big rat.

As he's almost got the beast down, Cora leaps in behind him. She’s actually holding her own pretty well – she doesn’t have any savage glee or anything, but her satisfied smile when the rat disappears in a puff of blue smoke says plenty.

“That's it!” Malroth calls. “Yeah!” Cora echoes, and sticks out a hand.

She obviously expects him to do something with it –overcome by a strange urge, Malroth reaches out a hand too, and smacks hers with his own. “That was weird,” Malroth says, pulling back his hand and looking at it. The impact made his hand tingle a little, and their skin is glowing a faint yellow. “What was that about?”

“Have you never gotten high-fived before?” Cora asks. At his quizzical expression, she explains, “It's like…something friends to do tell each other that they did a good job.”

“Huh,” Malroth says, examining his hand. “I mean, I don’t think I'm much of a touchy-feely guy. But maybe I can make an exception for this ‘high-five' nonsense.” He looks up at Cora and grins. “I’m feeling pretty strong right about now, how about you? We made short work of that rat.”

“I guess I _do_ feel a bit stronger,” Cora says. She has a funny look on her face, so Malroth reaches over and tugs her cheek. “Come on, admit it!” he says. “It totally scratched the itch.”

“Mayfe iff oo left go of my fafe!”

Malroth obediently lets her go, and pats her head. “Eh, it’s OK,” he says. “Maybe you’re a better builder than a fighter! In that case, if you want to stick to the construction, you can leave the monster-mashing to me.”

“I thought I was too scrawny to be your partner,” Cora teases. “What, did you change your mind?”

“Yeah, yeah, so you’re a little cooler than I thought you were earlier,” he says. “Laugh it up, go ahead.”

“Oh, I plan to,” Cora says, grinning. “I’m gonna hold that over your head for pretty much ever, _partner_.”

“Okay, okay,” Malroth laughs. “Come on, let's head back before Lulu steals all of our straw. I dunno about you, but I'm wiped.”

“Ha! Me too,” Cora admits. “I feel like I could sleep for a week!”

Cora leads the charge up the beach, Malroth following at her heels. Her outward appearance isn’t all that capable – but she’s sure proven him wrong about that today. He's pretty sure he could teach her to be better in a fight, too, without a lot of effort on his part. Even as strong as he is, he’s a little apprehensive about exploring the rest of the island without backup…but if she really _was _his partner, he’s pretty sure the two of them could clear out any monsters that get uppity in no time flat.

“Hey, Cora,” he calls. “Hold up a sec.”

She turns, and he jogs up. “What do you say,” he asks, “To exploring the whole island together? Just you and me?”

“Just you and me, huh?” Cora arches an eyebrow at him, but she seems pleased that he asked anyway. “Are we just going to let Lulu fend for herself?”

He looks at her blankly. “Uh, yeah?”

Cora snorts. “Yeah, alright, I know it’s tempting. But she’s not so bad. Besides, she’s the only other person we've met on the whole island. Don’t you think we ought to all look out for each other?”

Malroth thinks about it for a minute, then shakes his head. “Honestly, not really,” he says. “I think she’s perfectly capable of fending for herself, she’s just spoiled and wants you to do it all for her.”

“Or, she’s as exhausted as we are,” Cora murmurs, opening the door of the hut quietly to reveal an extinguished bonfire and Lulu fast asleep in the middle straw bed. “And just needs a little more help getting back on her feet.”

Malroth huffs, stepping over her to climb onto the neighboring straw. “If she follows us, fine, but it’s her job to keep up,” Malroth says, carefully setting his new club down next to him.“I'm not gonna stand around and coddle her.”

“Fair enough.” The hut is dark and he can’t see her face, but it sounds like Cora's smiling. “Good night, Malroth.”

Malroth smiles, satisfied. “Yep, I agree,” he says.

As he's falling asleep, he can hear Cora's faint chuckle.

…

The morning starts out significantly less pleasant than the evening had ended. Before Malroth is even fully awake, he grabs his club and brandishes it threateningly, thinking them under attack.

Instead, it’s only Lulu, complaining at the absolute top of her lungs about some nasty half a scallywinkle she stupidly didn’t eat the night before and left sitting around to rot. She accuses Malroth immediately – because, of course she does, never mind that their makeshift hut doesn’t have a damn_ roof_ and any stray flying animal could have snatched it up and eaten it in the night without any trouble whatsoever.

Cora, who apparently sleeps like the freaking _dead_, seems to miss the entire incident. But, as she gets up, the ground begins to shake again, and she immediately squares her stance, her pigtails frizzing in every possible direction. “Malroth, Lulu,” she asks, “Can you feel that?”

Unfortunately, Malroth’s murderous rampage has to wait. When the three of them peek around the corner, there’s a large, tubby – _thing_. It’s golden and slightly transparent, having somehow passed successfully through the cliff face without any interference. It bounces cheerfully in place, and it’s holding a large hammer in its two rather unimpressive-looking fists, as if hoping for nothing more than for something to come along that he can whack the stuffing out of. (Malroth, for the record, can completely sympathize.)

“A-HA!” Lulu shouts triumphantly. “There’s the culprit!” Without the faintest apology for immediately turning a suspicious eye on him, Lulu turns to Malroth, “That monster must be the one who snaffled my scallywinkle!”

“Are we sure he’s, erm, corporeal enough to eat?” Cora asks dubiously. “He looks sort of see-through to me. If he ate your scallywinkle, I would think we’d be able to see it.”

The monster – spirit – _whatever it is_, lets out a loud, bellowing chuckle and brandishes his hammer. Malroth steps forward with a grin, planting his feet and raising his club – but, disappointingly, Beardy and Tubby turns away from him and _smashes the crap _out of the cave wall. “Whoa!” Malroth shouts, as the cliff face disappears before their eyes, great chunks of boulder flying willy-nilly. “Wait, are those….”

After a few minutes of whacking, the creature seems satisfied, and happily bounces up the new steps it just revealed. “Ho-ho-ho,” it calls. “This way, young whip-whip-whippersnappers!”

As quickly as it had come, the thing completely disappears, leaving two braziers at the top of the steps to cheerfully burst into flame. “Uh,” Cora says. “That was weird.”

“That floating freak can’t seriously expect us to _follow_ him…can it?” Malroth asks.

“Of course it can!” Lulu says, looking severely put upon as she throws up her hands, raising her eyes to the sky. “Of course it can. Because this is my life now!”

“Oh, come on, you two,” Cora says. “We should at least go and see what’s up there, don’t you think?”

Malroth looks at her face – looks back at Lulu – and shrugs. “Well, alright,” he relents. “Maybe he can tell us a little bit about the island. And I don’t know about you two – but I’ve got some questions that need answering!”

They end up following the floating beard guy all the way around and up a mountainside, braziers lighting up their path as they go. Lulu complains, because she’s Lulu, but Malroth can feel an odd power he’s never felt before emanating from the ghostly hammerhood, and urges his fellow slowpokes to catch up.

As they finish their climb, the three pause in awe as they take in the ruins of what must have been an absolutely _massive_ temple. “_Whoa_,” Malroth says admiringly. “What’s a place like this doing on a desert island?”

Cora and Lulu are both silent – Lulu seems to be fixed in place, eyes wide as she takes in her surroundings, while Cora’s face takes on a look of quiet reverence as she starts to gingerly ascend the massive stairway. Malroth follows her, and after a moment, Lulu rudely rushes past them both to beat them to the top. “Hey!” Malroth shouts, but she pays him no attention, eyes fixed squarely on the floating beard guy. “There’s no escape now, you sneaky scallywinkle swindler!” she cries. “Just hand over the bivalve and no one gets hurt!”

“Ho-ho-ho now,” the hammerhood says. “Surely a noble lady can permit a hungry ham-ham-hammerhood her half-snarfed leftovers?”

Malroth and Cora burst out laughing as Lulu stamps her feet, fuming. “I’ll tolerate no excuses! Stealing is stealing, no ifs, ands, or buts about it!” she cries. “Cora seared that scallywinkle especially for me. Now, give it back, you horrible, hoary, hairy hermit!”

The Hairy Hermit in question doesn’t seem in the least bothered. “Ah, yes…Cora,” he says, turning his gaze to her.

“Me?” Cora squeaks.

“Yes, you-you-you!” It’s sort of hard to tell, but the Hairy Hermit seems to be smiling behind his massive, bushy moustache. “It just so happens that I’ve been waiting for a builder to rock-rock-rock up here for…oh, for a very long time indeed!”

“Wait…how do you know she’s a builder?” Malroth asks.

“Ho ho!” The Hairy Hermit looks approvingly at Malroth. “You’re an observant one, aren’t you! Why, the very reason I pinched that scrum-scrum-scrumptious scallywinkle was to lure your fine friend up here.

“Look around you, Cora. The temple has lain in this sorry state for longer than I can recall,” the Hermit continues. “If you are the builder I believe you to be, then perhaps you can fix-fix-fix it? Everything you need to rebuild the temp-temp-temple is right here in these chests.”

“How dare you lure her up to fix your temple with _my scallywinkle!_” Lulu cries. “She shouldn’t be expected to work on an empty stomach, anyway!”

“What? I’m not, I already ate,” Cora says. “Here, did you want some more?” Cora digs around in her bag, and then pulls out seven more servings of scallywinkle. They should probably be grosser, sitting around in some musty old bag, but they smell as fresh and delicious as if she had just cooked every single one in front of them, steam wafting tantalizingly off the tops.

He and Lulu lunge simultaneously, and after some biting, clawing and scratching, they each end up wolfing down three. Cora hands the last portion to the hammerhood, and it’s gone in a blink, before Malroth can see how he even managed to eat it. “How ki-ki-kind you are,” he says, and lets out a mighty belch. “Now, where were we?”

“Repairing the temple,” Lulu says, around half a mouthful of scallywinkle.

“Ah, yes. Repairing the temple.” The Hairy Hermit strokes his beard. “Well, you are a fresh-faced builder. I suppose you might find the going dif-dif-difficult without a blueprint as a guide…”

He hops up nearly out of sight again. “Come back here, you conniving old codger!” Malroth shouts. “If you think we’re going to fix your house for free, you’ve got another thing coming!” Turning to Cora, he asks, “And anyway, what’s a blueprint?”

“Um…hm. How to describe it,” Cora says, thinking a moment. “It’s like, a drawing guide for planning out how you’re going to modify an existing space?”

Malroth looks at Lulu. She shrugs. They both look expectantly back at Cora, who laughs. “Okay, okay. Maybe that was a little too technical. It might be better if I just show you.” She flips through her book until she lands on the page she wants – and then darts over to the other side of the temple, using her quill to draw big, fat lines on the ground. “See? It’s a little guide, for how I’m going to use the materials.”

“Gosh,” Lulu says. “You’ve never even been up here before, but you were able to still able to draw up a design. That’s incredible!”

Cora blushes. “Every builder uses blueprints, I’m not that special,” she insists. “It just makes placing everything a little bit easier.”

“So, you _are _going to fix it for him,” Malroth says, shaking his head. “You really can’t say no to helping anybody out, can you?”

“Nope,” Cora agrees, grinning. “Now, come on. How about you two help me sort through the materials in those chests over there? He said we’d have everything we would need, and I’d like to get started.”

…

In just a few hours, Cora is able to quickly fix up the top of the temple. When she finishes it, Malroth can see where her vision came from – the temple top now looks perfectly even and symmetrical, with four matching braziers adorning each raised dais.

She looks back with pride as she surveys her work, and Malroth realizes that there are no more lines drawn on the ground – they’ve all been covered up by temple blocks and lighting. “Woah, you finished the blueprint!” he says.

“And you didn’t even break a sweat!” Lulu exclaims. It’s the first time Malroth has ever heard her string together two compliments, so she must be genuinely impressed. “I think I’ll have you build me a palace next! That should be no trouble for an expert like you.”

“Wait, wait, hang on a minute,” Malroth says. “I still have more questions about that blueprint business. How did you come up with it in the first place?” As Cora opens her mouth to begin to explain, Malroth says, “No, wait, I’ve got it. Don’t tell me – you use that big book on your back, and it has everything you need to know to be a builder written inside!”

By Cora’s shocked expression, he totally hit the nail on the head. “You’re busted now, Cora! The secret’s out, so you may as well let me read it.”

“No way,” Cora says immediately, without a flicker of hesitation as she clutches the book to her protectively. “Nobody is reading this book.”

“What? Why not?” Malroth asks. “Come on, just a little peek?”

“Is something the matter, Cora?” Lulu asks. “Your face is all red. …Wait a minute! You don’t have a mucky magazine sandwiched between the pages, do you?!”

“What? No!!” Cora shouts, clutching the book to her protectively. “Do I look like the kind of person who would read those?!”

“I mean, _I _don’t care if it’s mucky,” Malroth says. “Give it a quick wipe down and it’ll be good as –“

“It’s _private_,” Cora says, “And it’s mine, and that’s the end of it.”

Malroth and Lulu exchange conspiratorial glances. That’s the one good thing about Lulu – she seems to be pretty talented at getting _into _trouble, if not so much getting herself out of it. They both make a show of relenting to appease Cora, but Malroth is positive that one of the two of them will get their mitts on it and read it before this adventure is over. He’s also pretty positive it’s going to be him. Lulu can eat his dust.

As Malroth begins to contemplate his book-stealing strategy, the Hairy Hermit fizzles in to greet them. “Cora! You’ve finished repairing the temple, I see,” he says. “I knew you would-would-wouldn’t let me down. All it took was a glance, and you drew up that blueprint, quick as a flash! You’re the real deal, Cora – a builder, born and bred-bred-bred.”

All of the sconces light up cheerfully as the hammerhood hops back over to the upper landing near the mouth of the temple’s small cave. “As a thank you for your hard work-work-work, I’d like to give you a little present. Here – you deserve it for the crack-crack-cracking job you did!”

The Hairy Hermit, from somewhere Malroth _really _doesn’t want to think about too hard, pulls out a wooden hammer which is essentially identical to the one in his hands, handing it to Cora with a solemn look. Cora takes it and raises it in the sky triumphantly. “Oh, man, this is _great_,” she exclaims. “Thank you so much!”

Lulu, as usual, is less than impressed. “A silly old hammer?” she asks. “I thought you were going to give me back my breakfast!”

“That’s a giant mallet, my girl,” the Hairy Hermit explains. “It’s an indispensable item in the toolkit-kit-kit of any self-respecting builder. She’ll be able to break things down and gather even more materials than before!” He adds proudly, “I also have another cork-cork-corking gift for you, Cora. I’m sure you’ll like this one.”

“Really, this is plenty,” Cora demurs. “It wasn’t that much work –“

“Nonsense!” Bouncing up and down excitedly on his hammer, the hammerhood adds, “I also give you – this island! All of it! Every last inch-inch-inch!”

“Whaaaat?!” Lulu exclaims. “You’re giving her this entire _island_?! All she did was repair the temple…”

The Hairy Hermit explains a good deal of things – the history of the island, named “The Isle of Awakening,” and the ancient legendary builder who wanted to turn it into their own piece of personal paradise.

Cora listens with rapt attention, and her smile grows with every word the hammerhood says. “Yes, I think I can feel a bit of their belief still,” she agrees. “That must be why the island feels so peaceful.”

“A whole _island_, though,” Malroth says. “I mean, what are we even supposed to build? And you want Cora to do all the work, I bet!” At the hammerhood’s blank expression, he grunts. “Why am I not surprised. How do we even know this island is yours to give away!”

“It certainly is mine-mine-mine!” the Hairy Hermit says, moustache hairs bristling. “I’ll have you know that I’m the guardian spirit of this island – and what I say goes!”

“Hm.” Lulu looks at Cora. “Well? Your own private island. Are you going to take him up on his offer? And – er…“ Sheepishly, Lulu adds, “If you do accept, would you mind if I stayed here? I don’t really have anywhere else to go…”

“I’ll stick around too, until I’ve got my memory back. If that’s okay with you,” Malroth adds. He can’t explain it, but he has a niggling feeling at the back of his mind like he has some sort of connection to this island. He can’t put his finger on what it is, but maybe with Cora’s help, he could figure it out.

“What do you say, Cora?” the hammerhood asks. “Will you take the island?”

“Yes,” Cora says proudly. “Thank you. I’ll take good care of it. And, Malroth and Lulu – you both are welcome to stay here and keep me company as long as you like!”

“I just knew you’d make the right decision,” Lulu gushes. “Now we can begin work on Lulutopia! The first thing I want is a palace. Malroth, I need you to –“

“Lulutopia?! I don’t think so!” Malroth shouts. “Today we establish our Empire of Evisceration, and _you _can be our first sacrifice!” He looks at Cora for backup. “Right?”

“Ho-ho-ho, you young upstarts,” Hairy Hermit cuts in. “This island belongs to Cora now. You should leave big-big-big decisions like these up to her!”

“Honestly?” Cora asks. “I don’t think a palace sounds half-bad. We can argue about how to decorate it and what to put in it later.”

Lulu smirks at Malroth triumphantly, who folds his arms over his chest and glares daggers at her. “Yes, Cora! Let’s build the palace of our dreams together.” Looking aside and tapping her chin, she says, “On the other hand, I can’t see you making much progress on that any time soon. There’s one rather big stumbling block that’s getting in the way…”

“Yep. Unless we want to build our castle out of scallywinkles and kelp, there aren’t really many raw materials to work with,” Cora says. “And I really don’t think that’d be a very sturdy palace to begin with. Maybe we ought to dream a little smaller, for the time being.”

“You’ll also have trouble making head-head-headway with just the three of you,” Hairy Hermit agrees. “Wood and stone are all well and good, but what you really need is people! You’ll have to travel to other islands and bring back-back-back a few friends to help you out!”

Malroth bites back a few choicer insults – after all, the guy did just give Cora her own _island_. Maybe he has a nicer one he can give to Malroth. “I thought we were stranded here,” he says instead. “How are we supposed to get to these other islands without a ship?”

“Ho ho ho! A top-top-top-notch question indeed,” Hairy Hermit says. “And, one that the heavens shall soon answer!”

He turns away from them, his head and beard hair wiggling vigorously. “Admit it,” Malroth crows. “You’re just winging this, aren’t you? You don’t have a clue!”

“Hmm?” Lulu asks. “I think I hear something.”

They turn around, to reveal a tiny passenger ship down near what was presumably once a dock. “Unbelievable,” Malroth shouts. “You’re just doing this on purpose now. Who are you really? And can all that guardian spirit nonsense!”

“Well, to tell you the truth…” The hammerhood looks down at the place where his feet disappear into his back beard. “I can’t rem-mem-member who I am. I’m not even sure I ever knew…”

“You’re in good company, then,” Cora says. “Malroth can’t remember his past, either!”

“I don’t know about you, young man,” Hairy Hermit says. “But I’ve got a funny feeling that it will all come right back-back-back to me as I watch Cora work her building magic…”

“Well, there’s no time like the present,” Lulu says eagerly, clapping Cora on the back. “Let’s go speak to the captain of that ship and get the work started!”

As she skips off happily down the stairs, Malroth folds his hands behind his head. “Well? It’s your island,” he says. “We don’t have to leave yet if you don’t want to.”

Cora has a funny look on her face – she looks nervous, maybe, like she had before they fought off the monsters together the night before. “I guess part of me isn’t eager to get back on a ship just yet,” she says. She gives Malroth a rueful grin. “What can I say? The last one didn’t go so well, after all.”

“Can’t say I blame you.” Malroth reaches out and offers her a hand. “You wanna get outta here? You can see a lot from up here, and it looks like there’s some cool places around. We could go exploring for a bit before we go meet the captain.”

Cora takes it, stepping down off the raised platform. “No, it’s okay.” she says, with a confidence she clearly doesn’t feel. She sighs, squaring her shoulders. “Let’s at least hear what he has to say. If he wrecked here, he might need our help too.” She gives Malroth a little smile. “Thank you, though.”

For reasons he can’t explain, Malroth’s face feels hot. “No sweat,” he says, and follows her back down the stairs.


	3. Cruisin' Down the Coast

**Chapter 3: Cruisin’ Down the Coast  
** _Summertime Sadness – Lana Del Rey_

After a few hops, skips and jumps, the three of them make it down to the docks. The captain’s name is Brownbeard, and he briefly explains that he ended up at the Isle of Awakening after he accidentally steered into a storm to get away from the Children of Hargon and got himself turned around.

In Malroth’s eyes, Brownbeard is clearly a pretty inexperienced captain, but he does at least offer to ferry them to any new islands they hear about. The only problem? He’s _so _inexperienced that he hasn’t heard of any himself.

“Are you kidding me?” Malroth says. “We’re _stranded _here. Why would we know of any nearby islands?!”

“Too bad,” Lulu says, clearly crestfallen. “I was really picturing Lulutopia with a little greenery. Tree-lined boulevards, spacious parks, tables sagging under the weight of freshly-picked vegetables…”

A tell-tale chuckle echoes behind Malroth’s head, and he turns to see the cheerful face of Hairy Hermit. “In that case, you should first visit Furrowfield!” he announces. “It’s famed for its fertile fields and fruit-fruit-fruitful farms.”

“That does sound nice,” Cora says wistfully. She looks a little green around the edges still, but no obvious worse for wear. “Where is it?”

“To the east. The island is home to a dashing young lass with a bright future in farming, and a dash-dash-dashing dandy with a bushy beard. They should be able to help your cause!” Hairy Hermit says, waving his hammer excitedly. “I’ll mark it on Captain Brownbeard’s map – you just leave the sailing to him.”

“You heard the magic monster!” Brownbeard exclaims. “Cora, come and find me when ye’re ready to go and we’ll weigh the anchor. It was five tons, last I checked,” he finishes proudly.

“Is _that _what ‘weigh the anchor!’ means! I was always curious,” Lulu murmurs.

“I should warn ye,” Brownbeard continues. “This vessel ain’t built for chuggin’ cargo. Ye can keep yer weapons, but ye’ll have to leave to leave behind everythin’ else ye gathered here, an’ fish for more materials when we reach our destination.”

“Then I guess we might as well leave now,” Cora says. “We’re well-fed and rested – I think that’s about as good as it’s going to get.”

“Cora, Malroth…” Lulu steps back hesitantly as Cora begins to put her belongings in the storage sack near the dock’s edge. “You’ve decided to go to this new island, then.”

“Yup,” Malroth agrees. “We’re not sticking around here any longer. Hop aboard, Lulu, you’re coming too!”

“…Actually, I think I’ll stay here,” Lulu says.

“What?!” Malroth looks at Cora in dismay. “She’s just going to leave us to do all the hard work!”

“I’m sorry, Malroth, Cora,” she says. She does look genuinely contrite. “After what happened on Hargon’s slave ship, I just don’t think I can stomach setting foot on a boat right now.”

“Cora’s sucking it up and doing it,” Malroth points out, jerking a thumb at her.

“Malroth, don’t push her,” Cora says firmly. “If she doesn’t want to come, she doesn’t have to.”

“Don’t let me stop you guys from exploring this Furrowfield place,” Lulu says. “I’ll be fine here. I’m tougher than I look, I’ll have you know!”

“Are you?” Malroth asks. “Ow,” he adds, as Cora digs a sharp elbow into his side. “What was that for?”

“Quit fighting and get on the ship,” she says. “Brownbeard, if they’re still out there arguing in ten minutes, pick Malroth up and toss him overboard. No offense, but I want to get this over with.”

“Aye-aye! All aboard for a trip abroad!” Brownbeard says cheerfully. Malroth gives him a menacing glare, and he quails a bit – satisfied, Malroth huffs and walks past him, clambering up onto the prow.

…

Furrowfield stinks.

Literally – there’s no getting around it; the place seems to be nothing more than a steaming pile of sludge. The trees are withered, the ground is disgusting and slimy in patches – all in all, it looks nothing like the verdant paradise that the Hairy Hermit promised them.

Malroth’s kind of digging the change, honestly – it beats the salty sting of nothing but fresh sea breezes all the time – but Cora’s nauseated expression seems heartfelt. “Well?” Malroth says doubtfully, looking over at Cora. “Are we calling this one a bust?”

Cora briefly raises her kerchief to her nose, taking a deep, steadying breath as she closes her eyes. Then she lets it fall back to her neck, turning to look at Malroth. Her expression is grim, but she also looks determined. “No,” she says. “If the spirit said there’re farmers here, we stay, and we help them fix – whatever this is. And if we can’t fix it, we bring them back with us.”

“You’re the boss,” Malroth agrees, secretly relieved. He folds his arms behind his head and grins. “Hope there’s monsters to smash! This club you made me is awesome for that.”

“If the whole island looks like this? I can’t imagine we _won’t _find any,” Cora mutters.

…

After a few false starts – and a run-in with some of the local badboon population which is fully deserving of the excellent high-five Cora and Malroth give each other after kicking butt – they meet Rosie, quivering in fear at the top of the mountain too hard to realize that they’ve saved her. After introducing herself, she gasps in shock when Cora proclaims herself to be a builder, quickly urging her silent and then insisting that they come back to the best farm on the island with her for a little tour.

“Why are people so surprised that you’re a builder?” Malroth asks, as they follow behind the eager teal-haired farmer. “Aren’t builders generally, like, helpful? You’re the only one I’ve met, of course, but you don’t seem like a bad sort.”

“They’re outlawed by the Children of Hargon,” Cora says. “It’s okay, I’ll explain later. Let’s catch up and see what she’s talking about.”

Rosie takes them both to the middle of a small swampy inlet. The ground has a few crumbling bits of flagstone footing, a door sticking up out of nowhere, and one of the pink blobs they’d encountered earlier sitting in a lone field of healthy wheat. “Well,” she says, hopping over the sludge and gesturing proudly. “Here we are – Furrowfield Farm! The greatest, greenest garden on the island! How do you like it?”

Cora and Malroth exchange a glance. “Err….” He searches for the right words. “Look, I don’t mean to burst your bubble, but it’s not that great. It’s not very green. It isn’t even a garden…”

Rosie, far from being offended, laughs. “Oh, I know,” she says cheerfully. “That’s because we haven’t built it yet!” She looks out over the barren landscape. “Furrowfield used to be a plant-lover’s paradise, with vegetables and flowers growing everywhere and anywhere. But then the spoilspores appeared,” she says, gesturing to the violently pink blobs. “They turned all the earth into horrible, stinky slime. You can hardly even grow weeds in it.”

“I can see that,” Cora says dubiously.

“But,” Rosie announces, “There was once a great farm here! The biggest and brightest on the whole island. And if all of us put our minds to it, I think we can bring it back!”

“All of us?” Malroth points over at an orange-haired boy and a bushy-headed man, who are staring with equally troubled expressions at the spoilspore which is planted squarely in their lone field of wheat. “Are those two mixed up in it too?”

Rosie turns, just as the spoilspore decides to release its noxious gas and explode. “Bonanzo! Perry!” she cries. “Are you alright?!”

“Us, yeah,” the bushy-haired man says. “But alas, our wheat is not. That spoilspore just obliterated our entire crop!” He turns towards Rosie, and starts in surprise when he sees Malroth and Cora. “And who are you two, pray tell?” he asks. “I’ve not seen your faces before, and to be honest, I think I rather liked it that way.” (“Ouch,” Cora laughs.)

“This is Cora, and this is Malroth,” Rosie says. “Cora says she’s a _builder_!”

“Blimmin’ ‘eck!” The orange-haired boy stands. “What kind o’ gal goes round tellin’ everyone she’s a builder? Must ‘ave something wrong with ‘er head…”

“Well said!” The bushy-haired man turns to Rosie. “Listen here – you may have fooled us this far, but we shall not be taken for ninnies! If you honestly expect us to believe that this so-called _builder _will somehow salvage this preposterous plan of yours, you are gravely mistaken. Come along, Perry, we’re leaving!”

“Oh, er…alright…” Perry mumbles.

Bonanzo places a firm but gentle hand on Rosie’s shoulder. “You must face facts, my dear. Furrowfield Farm is gone. The dream is over, and it is time to wake up.”

Malroth growls as the two run off. “That stuck-up beardy guy rubbed me the wrong way!” Turning back to Rosie, he says, “Still, facial hair felonies aside, he’s got a point. There’s no point in trying to rebuild this farm if the soil’s no good. You’re wasting your time.”

“No, I’m not!” Rosie insists. “I’m the finest farmer on Furrowfield, and Cora’s a real live builder! If we work together, I know we can do it!”

Unbelievable. Of course, they sail to some backwater, backwards island where the only person who still believes in their dream is as stubborn about quitting as Cora. “Wow,” he says. “You really don’t know when to give up, do you? Why do you want to rebuild this place, anyway?”

“Why?” Rosie shrugs. “It’s like Bonanzo said. It’s my dream.”

“A dream, huh?” Cora and Lulu talk about that too, but it always goes right over Malroth’s head. He’s never really had a dream – at least, as far as he knows. “You know, I never really got my head around all this ‘hopes and dreams’ stuff people go on about,” he says.

“Please, Cora,” Rosie begs. “I can’t do it on my own. You’ll help me rebuild Furrowfield Farm, won’t you?”

“I don’t know, Rosie,” Cora says slowly. “It looks like a big job. And I don’t know anything about how to fix problems with soil.”

“W-what?” Rosie stammers. “But – we both want the same thing!”

“Wanting the same thing doesn’t mean it’s possible,” Cora says. “I mean – most of the time, it does. But we also have a friend on our island at home who’s waiting for us to return. I don’t know if I can help you as much as you’ll need before we end up sailing back.”

“Please,” Rosie begs again, looking down. “I – I know it doesn’t look like much now. But if you can help me, even just a little bit –I’m sure we can turn things around!”

Cora looks back at Malroth, who shrugs. “I told you, you’re the boss,” he says. “If you think you can do it, Lulu can wait a little bit. It would stink to have sailed all the way out here and come back empty-handed.”

“Oh, alright.” Cora turns and grins at Rosie. “I guess I’m on board. Let’s get started.”

Rosie lets out a joyful laugh, grabbing Cora’s hands and jumping up and down. “Now that I’ve got a builder on board, the farm’s as good as built!” she declares. “Cora, Malroth – welcome to the team. We’re going to make this place the best farm ever!”

…

For the next several hours, Rosie and Cora put their heads together to come up with what their new farm will need to survive.

The first, most immediate crisis has to be the food situation. The soil around them is mostly spoiled, but by some miracle, they do have one last area of healthy soil. Cora thinks up a design for a scarecrow, and after they pop it in the healthy soil to demarcate the field, Rosie tills the healthy areas and hands Cora some cabbage seeds to plant.

Rosie looks at the mounded earth rapturously. “I knew there was something special about you, Cora,” she declares. “Not just anyone would risk their life to tell a stranger that they were a builder!”

Cora and Malroth exchange a glance. “Er,” Cora says. “I’m having a little trouble connecting the dots. Why would I be risking my life over that, exactly?”

Rosie guffawed. “Have you been living under a rock? Everyone knows builders are the enemy.”

No more explanation is forthcoming, but she does request that Cora figure out some way to make better use of the natural spring atop a nearby hillside to help them quickly gather water to hydrate their new seeds. Cora looks at them both, shrugs, and draws up a small blueprint.

Since building isn’t exactly Malroth's number one skill, he hasn’t been able to help with much so far – but after a quick survey, he's able to determine that the only thing standing in the way of them having a working station, minus the reservoir Cora is tirelessly shaping below out of the spoiled soil, is a tiny blockage at the top. “Cora, looks like there's a clog up here,” he calls. “Tell me when, and I’ll take care of it.”

“When!” Cora shouts. Without further ado, Malroth pounds the stuffing out of the blockage, and hops down with a flashy vault as the water begins to flow over the umber and trickles perfectly into Cora's newly-built irrigation station.

As Rosie waters the seeds, she reiterates that the remaining clean soil they have left on the island is minimal. Though there's a lot of “green,” most of it is moss or mold disguising the underlying spoiled earth. “But it can’t be helped,” she says. “We'll just have to wait until these little sprouts grow into fine cabbages – and prepare new fields where we can.”

“How long does it take these things to grow, anyway?” Malroth asks, inspecting the tiny little nubs of healthy-looking growth.

“A while. I find they grow best when you aren’t looking at them,” Rosie chuckles. “While we wait, let’s clean things up a little bit, if you don’t mind pitching in. A lot of the structures have been damaged by those horrid spoilspores, but I'm hopeful that we might find some other good areas for new fields somewhere underneath the rubble.”

“If nothing else, we can use the raw materials for new buildings and fixtures,” Cora agrees. “Couldn’t help but notice that you’ve got a door to nowhere over there, but not much in the way of actual sleeping quarters.”

“It's been – pretty nerve-wracking,” Rosie admits. “Not having a safe place to sleep, no fresh food to eat. The kelp that washes up on the beach is decent backup, but it won’t fill your belly the way a decent meal can. And farming is certainly hungry work!”

“All the more reason you oughta quit flapping your gums and come help,” Malroth jokes. Gesturing to the cleared area behind him, he says, “I got this part here pretty much done already, but we still have a ton of ground to cover.”

As they work on clearing the fields, Malroth can occasionally sense two sets of curious eyes on them. “You guys could help if you’re gonna hang around,” he calls once, but the eyes disappear in a flurry of whispers.

Rosie is also absolutely right – after a few hours of casting his eyes over to each of their little cabbage sprouts, willing them to grow faster, he loses his patience and stops checking them, focusing intently on knocking down the half-structures and stones around the farm. His concentration is then completely broken around sundown by Rosie's delighted gasp, as she and Cora hurry over to inspect their bumper crop.

The cabbages look amazing. Malroth has never seen any others to compare them to, but they're a bright, clear green distinct from their mossy surroundings and they smell like fresh air and wet soil. Rosie and Cora grab hands and jump around excitedly, and Cora ropes Malroth in for a high-five and a side-arm hug. Rosie isn’t nearly so shy, barreling straight into his chest and flinging her arms around him joyfully. “We did it!” she exclaims. “Furrowfield Farm's first cabbages.”

“Let's find a good place to put a bonfire, and I'll throw some on a stick to cook,” Cora suggests. “I’m sure you must be as starving as I am!”

“_Blimey_!” Perry shouts, forgetting himself as he runs out from behind the rocky umber hill nearby, Bonanzo hot on his heels. “These cabbages’re gurt lush,” he says admiringly. “Did you an’ Rosie really grow ‘em all by yourselves?”

“Every last one!” Rosie beams. “I told you she was going to help us make it happen!”

“Maybe you really are a builder, Cora…” Perry looks vaguely guilty – serves him right, honestly, running off just as they were ready to make the magic happen. If he’d had the courage of his convictions, he’d be standing in line for Cora's grilled greens right now instead of looking at them longingly.

“All the more reason we should shun her accursed presence!” Bonanzo bellows. “Come along, Perry, we're leaving,” he adds, marching over to officiously tug him away from the patch.

“Huh?” Perry asks, confused. “Oh. Uh…yessir… “ With that, he obediently follows behind Bonanzo, looking even more unsure than he did the first time they came and went.

The real question remains unanswered, though – why Furrowfield is so unquestionably adamant that builders are some kind of evil scourge on the land. Cora might be a savage destroyer of weeds and run-down, abandoned property, but it seems like that’s about as scary as she gets. Malroth thinks and thinks, but he just can’t wrap his head around the vision of her as some kind of vicious creature.

If he can’t make it add up, the only other thing he can do is to ask Rosie about it. “Why's beardy got such a grudge against builders?” he says, jerking a thumb at Bonanzo's retreating back. “If anything's accursed, it’s that dead dog on his chin!”

“I wouldn’t say it’s a grudge, really…” Rosie shrugs. “He’s just being cautious. After all, everyone knows that builders spread desolation and despair wherever they go.”

Seeing Cora's uncomfortable expression, Rosie hurriedly adds, “Don’t worry, Cora. I don’t think builders are harbingers of doom and gloom. In fact, I think they’re great!” Looking after Bonanzo and Perry, she continues, “Bonanzo's spent his whole life being told how awful people like you are. We all have.” She shakes her head. “You can’t expect him to change his mind overnight.”

Malroth folds his arms over his chest. “Why not? I did!”

Cora laughs. “You're a special case,” she says. Turning to Rosie, she adds, “It's okay. Really. He'll either come around, or he won’t.”

“You know, something just occurred to me,” she says, hiking up her glasses on her nose. “You see that bell across the way?” she asks, pointing across the clearing to the remnants of an old bell tower. “Well, there’s an old story about it…

“Once upon a time, a builder came to Furrowfield,” she begins. “He showed the people the wonder of building to earn their awe and appreciation, then he whacked this bell with all his might. When the islanders heard it ring out loud and clear, something awoke within them. They were filled with the power of creation, and Furrowfield Farm flourished.”

“Are you saying..that I should ring the bell?”

“Yeah! Maybe something good will happen,” Rosie says. “Go on, Cora! We'll never know what could happen until you give it a big whack!”

“If you say so,” Cora says uncertainly. She steps up the stone base, rears back and, wincing, swings her stick at the bell with all her might.

For a bell of such diminutive size, it makes a mighty sound. The clang echoes throughout the valley, and the oppressive miasma hanging over the island seems to lift a little, if only slightly.

“What did you call this thing?” Cora asks, examining the bell. “The Builder's Bell? I feel it…I feel the inspiration coursing through me!”

Malroth recognizes the look on her face – it’s the one she gets when she’s completely absorbed in a blueprint, or in coming up with a new invention. With a shoulder twist that looks, frankly, painful, Cora wrenches her book off of her back, yanks out her quill, and begins to scribble like a possessed madwoman. Even Perry runs back (again), and Malroth digs a friendly elbow into his side. “This is gonna be good.”

The more she writes, the more the aura of the farm grows. Finally, Cora closes her eyes and lifts her book to the sky in glee, and there's an almost physical snap of something long-forgotten settling into place. “Wow,” he says. “I don’t know what you just did, Cora, but it feels like the whole place is filled with some kind of strange power.”

Finally, Bonanzo runs over, eyes wide and panicked. “What have you _done?!” _he shouts. “What is this…this _energy_ flowing through me?!”

“I’ve got this uncontrollable urge to go an' till a field!” Perry agrees, though he sounds more cheerful about it.

Rosie looks near to tears. “I hoped this would happen,” she gushes. “You’ve opened our eyes to the wonder of building – and it looks like it even inspired you!”

“Is that so?” Bonanzo scratches his head, seeming to calm down. “We _could _use some furniture around around here…”

“You can make furniture?!” Perry bounces excitedly on the balls of his feet. “You builders really are amazin'!”

Cora looks overjoyed and a little smug, hands on her hips and chest puffed out. Maybe Malroth ought to be jealous of her, jealous that she can make so much cool stuff and he can’t – and maybe he will be later – but in that moment, all he can feel is happiness. She was brave to come here, held tough when people weren’t thankful and didn’t believe in her – and she stuck with it and worked hard until everyone changed their minds. He's honestly just really, really proud of her.

Still, that doesn’t mean she has time to rest on her laurels or anything. They don’t even have beds to sleep in, or a roof over their head yet. “Alright, Cora, we're all very impressed,” he teases. “You can stop posing now.”

Cora reddens, and then pretends to sniff, sticking her nose in the air. “I'll stop posing any time I want,” she says, and winks as she saunters past him.


	4. If I Was A Tree, Growing Tall And Green

**Chapter 4: If I Was A Tree, Growing Tall And Green  
** _All I Want Is You – Barry Louis Polisar_

After Bonanzo and Perry spend a few minutes gushing about building (oh, the irony!), Rosie hands Cora a special-looking seed. “I’m not actually sure what this is,” she admits. “But it seemed important, so I kept it hidden away. I’ve been saving it for the right time – or maybe, for the right person.”

The four of them jump as an enormous beam of light shoots into the sky, emanating from the round planter in the center of the cobblestones in the farm square. At Rosie's suggestion, Cora plants the bulb in the planter, and a magical-looking trunk sprouts from the base before their eyes.

Rosie leaps backward in alarm. “C-C-could this be?!” she shouts. She slumps in despair. “Oh, fiddlesticks,” she moans. “We've really gone and done it this time. The Master of Destruction is sure to strike us down!”

“The Master of Destruction? Who the heck’s that?” Malroth asks.

“What?” Rosie stares at him like he suddenly sprouted another head. Given the rate things are sprouting around here, he sneaks a hand to the back of his neck and checks, just in case. “Have you never heard of the Master of Destruction? Does that mean you’ve never heard about the Children of Hargon, either?”

“Amnesia, Rosie,” Cora reminds her.

“No idea what you’re going on about,” Malroth echoes.

“I see,” Rosie says. “So you weren’t just playing dumb – you really don’t know about the evils of building. We've been talking at cross purposes this whole time.”

“I'll say,” Malroth agrees. “I’m _really _not understanding why Cora helping you make awesome stuff is evil.”

“Let me explain,” Rosie says. “Everyone in Furrowfield follows the teachings of High Priest Hargon, handed down to us by his illustrious Children. So, here, building isn’t only forbidden; it’s also a serious sin.”

“It's _what_?!” Malroth shouts, but he's drowned out by Perry's panicked screaming. “_Rosie!!_” he yells, heading full-tilt towards them as an imposing-looking cloaked figure follows behind him at a more stately pace, using his mage's staff as a makeshift cane. ‘We're in a ‘ole ‘eap of trouble ‘ere; the pastor's on his way over,” he bursts. “’E must have seen the light from the tree!”

The pastor gasps. “What in the name of Hargon is happening here?!” he shouts, clutching his head as he runs over to the tree, angrily gesturing at it. “Who planted this tree? Answer me, faithless wretches!”

“I did,” Cora says. She marches over to the pastor fearlessly, meeting his gaze head-on. “Pleased to meet you. My name’s Cora, and we're building a farm here.”

“What, what, _what?! _Building a _farm_, you say?” He shakes his fist angrily, the orb at the top of his staff beginning to glow orange as he charges up an attack. “Heresy! How dare you sully my island with the sinful stain of creation! You will pay dearly for this!”

Perry bursts into tears. “We're sorry, we're sorry, we're sorry,” he mumbles.

“The fields and the cabbages were my idea!” Rosie shouts. She leaps in between Cora and the pastor, spreading her arms protectively. “Don’t punish Cora just because she’s a builder!”

The pastor steps back in surprise. “A builder?” he asks, looking suspiciously at Cora. “This witless-looking whelp?” Seemingly coming to some sort of realization, he turns his attention to the tree. “Wait – this tree...Could it really be?” he asks, trailing off uncertainly.

“Could it really be what?” Malroth says irritably. He's tired of all of this cloak and dagger nonsense – literally. “If you know something about it, spit it out.”

“If I am not mistaken, this is a young Deitree,” the pastor says. “The sacred sentinel of the Furrowfield forests, beneath whose blessed boughs this isle once flourished.”

Rosie and Cora exchange a nervous glance as the pastor hums in thought, hunching over and stroking his cloaked chin. After a moment, he straightens. “Hear me, my wayward vassals! I have had a change of heart,” he announces. “I have seen the fruits of your labors, and I have decided to forgive you your sins!”

“…You what?” Perry asks, sniffing and wiping his eyes.

“My superiors need not know of your…arboreal indiscretion,” the pastor continues. “I will keep your secret, as long as you keep growing this tree – but should it dwindle and die, then so shall you!”

“G-grow the tree?” Rosie asks, her voice shaking in fear. “B-but – I don’t really know how to…”

“You need not worry on that account, my child,” the pastor says. “Furrowfield's most ancient legends tell what to do to make a Deitree grow tall and strong…”

For a Child of Hargon, the pastor seems surprisingly knowledgeable about Furrowfield's history. In his stories, he describes the Furrowfield of yesteryear more how the Hairy Hermit had described it – a lush, verdant farmland, famed for its variety of healthy crops.

He suggests that they start by sowing more cabbage and wheat, since those are two hardier crops that don’t need a lot of preparation or perfect conditions to grow. In addition, he also recommends that they focus on expanding their fields in general, anywhere they can manage to find healthy soil, so harvesting enough crops for sustenance doesn’t mean sacrificing an entire harvest.

“But the real cornerstone of that will be finding some means of making the surrounding soil healthy,” the pastor says. “That may be a task in and of itself – so that should be plenty of direction for you to get started,” he finishes, looking at Rosie.

“I think I’ve heard of this so-called ‘Deitree’,” Bonanzo says, stroking his beard. “It was a mighty, magical tree that protected all life on Furrowfield – or so they say.”

Rosie grins. “If that’s true, and if we can really grow a new Deitree,” she says, “Then we might be able to bring light and life back to the island after all!”

Malroth squints suspiciously at the pastor. “Hold on. A creepy monster turns up out of the blue, and suddenly you’re going along with everything he says? What makes you think he can be trusted?”

“Malroth!” Cora scolds.

“Hm hm hm! We have a live one, I see,” the pastor says. “Such a spirited soul _would _make a fine offering to the Master of Destruction…” He trails off menacingly as his staff begins to glow orange.

Rosie puts her hands on her hips. “Don’t make a fuss, Malroth!” she chides. “We’re not exactly in a position to argue here!”

“Fine.” Malroth settles down as the pastor’s staff winks out, but he watches him suspiciously as Cora and Rosie begin to discuss next steps.

…

Malroth ends up working next to Perry and Bonanzo in the cabbage patch – he’s destroying some of the spoiled soil so it won’t have any chance of impacting their healthy greenery, while Perry and Bonanzo till the earth and water the seeds so the ladies are freed up to start planting more of their cabbages.

“Boy,” Perry says, wiping his forehead as he casts a nervous glance over at the pastor, resting beneath the tree. “Never expected the pastor to appear out of the blue like that. Scared the livin’ daylight out of me, so it did.” He shakes his head as he lets his hoe fall, pulling the detritus back to reveal fresh, healthy layers of soil.

“Why do you lot believe all this ‘Children of Hargon’ rubbish anyway?” Malroth asks, slamming his club into the spoiled soil and watching it splash away. “I mean, look at your pastor,” he says, gesturing over at him. “He’s dressed like someone’s grandmother!”

“To tell you the truth? Never given it much thought before. It’s just the way it’s always bin,” Perry says. “You know, I got dragged ‘ere by Rosie…She was ‘ell-bent on rebuildin’ the farm, you see. I was more worried about bein’ found out by the Children of ‘Argon.” He grins. “But I don’t ‘ave to worry about that any more, do I? Maybe I can even become a builder like Cora!”

“Well, it’s harder than it looks,” Malroth says. “I’m no good for it, but maybe you’ll take to it better.”

“Yeah!” Perry pumps a fist in the air. “I’m goin’ to be doin’ a whole lot of buildin’ from now on – an’ if the Children don’t like it, they can _get stuffed_!”

The pastor suddenly leaps up, looking around for a culprit as his staff glows orange. “Who dares speak ill of the Children of Hargon?!” he cries. “What foul sinner defies my divine authority?! Show yourself, or face the full wrath of my righteous fury!”

Perry leaps back in alarm. “That pastor’s got ears on ‘im like a blimmin’ bat!” he whispers.

After a tense several seconds, the pastor seems to shrug to himself, and goes back to resting beneath the tree. Perry breathes a sigh of relief. “That was close,” he says.

“Too close,” Bonanzo says, whacking him upside the head. Turning to Malroth, he says, “When Rosie led us to this ruined farm, I had doubts about her whole plan. The last thing I expected was to meet a builder here!” He points over to where Rosie and Cora are standing, Rosie watching intently and occasionally making suggestions as Cora re-builds the walls of the ruined room around the ‘door to nowhere’. “I guess there are advantages of having someone like her around, hm?”

Malroth grins. “Just wait until she throws together some torches and straw beds,” he says. “I don’t know how she does it, but she’s determined to make sure everyone has a place to sleep tonight, even if it means she doesn’t get much herself.”

Bonanzo yawns, stretching. “It’ll be good to have a fitting place to sleep for a man such as myself! I thought this day would never come.”

“Oi, you lot,” Perry calls. “Less nappin’, more tillin’! It’s gettin’ dark, and we’ve still got to get this field squared away and get everythin’ watered.”

“Fine, fine,” Bonanzo sighs. He makes a rude gesture behind Perry’s back – despite his overall annoyance with Bonanzo’s airs, Malroth laughs, and goes to help him lug a bucket over from the irrigation station to water the cabbage seeds with.

…

As true darkness settles over the farm, Cora finishes assembling her last torch, sticking it near the door to the makeshift bedroom. She only has enough dry grass and cord for three beds, though – it’s a great start, especially with what limited materials they were able to gather as they followed Rosie to the farm, but it clearly isn’t enough to sleep all of them.

The pastor’s pretty clearly more comfortable outside – it’s hard to tell with his mask, but Malroth thinks he’s probably already snoozing underneath the sprouted trunk. That leaves five residents, and only three beds.

“Cora, you should take a bed,” Rosie suggests. “You’ve been working hard for us all day. I can sleep on the floor, I don’t mind.”

Cora shrugs. “I’m small,” she says. “If I curl up, I’m pretty sure I can sleep on my work table outside.”

“Absolutely not,” Bonanzo says. “There are monsters outside, and the table’s too big to fit in here with us. We’ve been sleeping outside for a long time, right, Perry?”

They look over at Perry, who looks longingly at the straw bed in the corner, but he nods a moment later. “Yep. No problem.”

Malroth can see the mulish set to Cora’s chin, and he sighs. “Nope. Residents of the island sleep first,” he says. “Cora can sleep on her table for the one night – we slept on the boat on the way, so we’re decently rested. You guys farmed – you aren’t. I’ll keep watch until first light, then I’ll sleep until Cora wakes me up, and after that we can go gather some more materials for more beds.”

“Cora, Malroth, are you certain?” Rosie asks, concerned. “We don’t want to take your spot, after you’ve worked so hard today…”

“Positive. Malroth will keep me company,” she says, grinning at him. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll go gather the materials at night anyway, and any monsters who dare challenge us can taste Malroth’s club.”

She punctuates this by a hearty yawn, and they all laugh. “If you’re sure, I think we’ll take you up on that,” Rosie says. “But you need to sleep too! Have a good night, you two, and we’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good night!” Cora says cheerfully. _Oh_, Malroth realizes. Is that how that exchange is supposed to go?

As the three Furrowfield natives settle in, Malroth heads outside with Cora, helping her move her table closer to the farmers’ bedroom. “Are you going to be comfortable enough to sleep?” he asks, watching as she clambers up onto the smooth wood. “It looks way too small.”

“I’ll be fine for the night,” Cora shrugs and smiles up at him. “Thanks for watching out for me. It was sweet of you to volunteer for guard duty. Pretty smart – you can wake me up if there’s any trouble to fight off without waking everyone else, too.”

“Heh. I do try,” Malroth agrees. He reaches out a hand and ruffles her hair. “Alright, Pigtails. Get some rest, okay? I won’t let anybody bug you.”

Cora nods sleepily, curling up into a tiny ball. “Good night, Malroth,” she mumbles. She looks exhausted – she’s already half-asleep, it seems – and Malroth feels his mouth turn up in a little smile as she starts to softly snore. “Good night,” he says, and settles into a cross-legged position, beginning to scan his surroundings for any threats potentially lurking in the night.

Fortunately, his watch is pretty uneventful. They do get attacked by a rogue spirit once, but the spirit pretty much turns tail and runs as soon as it spies the torchlight near the door, so he doesn’t come close enough for Malroth to really get to whack him substantially. The weird pastor doesn’t stir, a blessing in and of itself, and before long, Malroth can start to see a hint of the first rays of sunlight slowly peeking over the horizon.

He knocks on the door to the farmer’s bedroom. “Time to get up,” he calls. “Sun’s about to rise.”

A trio of satisfied groans echoes through the tiny room. “Feels like I slept for a week,” Perry says, Rosie nodding and scrubbing at her eyes. Bonanzo mumbles something that Malroth doesn’t catch, but he thinks it’s something complimentary about builders and their charms – he huffs a laugh and heads in to take a nap before Cora wakes him back up.

…

Cora must let him sleep in for quite a while – Malroth wakes up on his own and heads outside, and their field of cabbages is left to watered seeds and stems. At first, he panics, thinking that maybe somebody helped themselves to their bounty while he was asleep – but after a moment he looks at the Deitree and realizes that something is different about it. There’s a healthy-looking section of new growth on one of the top branches of the trunk. _Good_, Malroth thinks, satisfied. They must have cleared the cabbage task while he was asleep.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Cora calls cheerfully. Malroth hops up and heads over to greet her – as he walks up, she plants the last seed of a brand-new row of cabbages. “Looking good, huh?” she asks proudly, casting her gaze over the tree. “We harvested a lot of cabbages this morning, and a bunch of new leaves sprouted up on the Deitree. We spent the morning planting more to replace the ones we picked.”

“Awesome,” Malroth says. “Any of ‘em up for grabs? I’m starving.”

Cora’s stomach growls, and she laughs sheepishly. “Guess I am too,” she says. “I was so focused on getting more seeds in the ground that I sort of forgot to eat.” She whistles over to the field. “Guys! Let’s take a quick break and grill some cabbages for lunch!”

Rosie, Bonanzo and Perry cheer, quickly hopping over to scarf down the greens Cora makes. The pastor hovers uncertainly behind them, fidgeting like he’s not quite sure of his welcome.

Well, Malroth has no love lost for the guy, but Malroth is pretty sure that one taste of these greens would make anyone less of an asshole. “Here,” he says, forking over his portion. “You wanna try some of this? Might as well see what you’re missing.”

Immediately, the mood changes – the air suddenly becomes fraught with tension, as the Furrowfieldians look frantically between the pastor and Malroth’s outstretched hand. Cora seems oblivious to the whole thing, smiling vaguely but continuing to munch her salad.

The pastor looks at his hand for a long time, and then sighs. “I suppose I must know what I am up against if I am to instruct you to quell these wretched desires in the future,” he says. He takes the skewer and his mask somehow….swallows it, the cabbage leaves disappearing suddenly into an inky void but the stick coming out clean. There’s a noise of chewing coming from somewhere, but his outward mask doesn’t show any movement or change at all in his expression.

“Well?” Cora asks pleasantly, handing Malroth another portion fresh off the grill. “What do you think, Pastor?”

There’s a loud gulp. “Hm. How to describe it,” the pastor says. Another bite suddenly disappears from the skewer, and then another, and another. “I feel…deeply unsettled,” he says. “I admit to being at a loss on how to guide you on the self-denial of such fresh produce. But perhaps I will learn over time.”

“Ha!” Rosie beams. “Even the pastor loves our cabbages! Great work, everyone.”

Bonanzo and Perry exchange an uncertain glance. “Thank you, I think,” Bonanzo says. “Malroth, you wanna polish off the rest of my skewer? I don’t think I’ll be finishing it.”

“Yeah, give it here,” Malroth says. “Thanks.”

Perry passes his over as well. “Gotta get back to work,” Perry says, with a shallow laugh as he pats his bicep. “These muscles won’t grow themselves.” Bonanzo nods in rapid agreement, and they scurry off to the irrigation station without another word.

Malroth looks at them, and then looks at Rosie and Cora. “Something happen this morning?” he asks. “Those two are acting kind of weird.”

“Oh, nothing,” Rosie says. Her voice wavers a little, clearly full of false cheer. Cora gives him a tiny shake of her head and kicks his ankle under the table. “We’re all good here,” Cora says. “Pastor, Rosie, would you mind helping us clean up? You can just throw the skewers into the bonfires, I can make more later. Malroth and I should start heading for the wheat mill, or we won’t make it back before sunset.”

“Not at all,” the pastor says cheerfully. He throws his stick into the fire, which flickers blue for a moment before settling back into its orange hue. “If you gather them up, I’ll burn them.”

“The cabbages?!” Rosie squeaks.

“What? No, the skewers,” the pastor says. “We already made plenty, there’s no sense in cooking too much ahead of time.”

“O-oh. Okay, then,” Rosie says, seeming to settle down.

“Come on, Malroth,” Cora urges, tugging him away. “The pastor gave us a good tip on where to find some more wheat seeds. Let’s get going.”

“If you say so,” Malroth says, hefting his club over a shoulder. “Say, why were you kicking me under the table?”

Cora laughs, slapping her face with her palm. “Not here,” she says. “Come on, I’ll fill you in on the way.”

…

“The pastor said _what?!?_”

A flock of crows startles at the sound of Malroth’s voice, echoing inside the old mill. “Shh! Not so loud,” Cora says. “I think I hear someone upstairs. We may have bigger fish to fry.”

“I’m gonna destroy him,” Malroth growls.

“Please don’t,” Cora sighs, following behind Malroth as they jog up the stairs. “It seemed like it was only a momentary outburst. We’re all suspicious of him too – but just because he’s a monster, that doesn’t mean he’s a bad person.”

“Okay, sure, but it _does _mean that he’s been pretty damn brainwashed by this whole Hargon business,” Malroth says irritably, whacking the corner of the old mill.

A yelp sounds from upstairs, and he quiets immediately, looking at Cora. “I told you,” she mouths, putting a finger to her lips for quiet and motioning him up further.

As it turns out, the voice they heard is only a young girl. She’s dressed in some kind of funny armor, and she’s blubbering about how she was fighting monsters and her weapon broke. “And there’s an anvil right there, but I would totally, like, die if I had to make something. Yeurgh,” she cries.

Cora eyes the anvil with a tell-tale gleam in her eye. “We’re not giving her my club,” Malroth says immediately, clutching it to him protectively. “Only I’m allowed to have it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cora says. “Wouldn’t dream of taking it from you.” The girl stops crying as she eyes Cora suspiciously, Cora taking a bunch of stone out of her pocket and whacking something together. “Here, don’t cry,” Cora says, taking a brand-new sword off of the anvil and sticking it in her pack. After digging around for a moment, she comes up with her old cypress stick. “Take this. If there’s an anvil here I can make swords with, I don’t really need it.”

“Oh! Em! Gee!” the girl says delightedly, leaping to her feet and swinging the stick around. “Who are you, and where did you get this weapon?!”

“I made it,” Cora says. “I’m a builder. My name’s Cora,” she offers.

“What? That’s crazy!” the girl says. “Well, crazy or not, I totally owe you one. Now that I’ve got a weapon that works again, I can do like the Children of Hargon said and destroy this village!”

“Cora, you really gotta stop introducing yourself that way if it’s pissing people off,” Malroth mutters, readying his club to deal some damage– but the girl turns away from them with a groan. “Oh, no,” she mutters, “I’m getting some seriously sketchy vibes here…”

They look down to the sound of loud, angry chittering. A group of ants has swarmed the base of the mill, looking about ready to chomp on their unsuspecting victims. “Not more of them!” the girl says. “Is this place, like, right on top of an ant’s nest? I clobbered so many of them on the way here that my sword literally broke. Like, _literally_!”

“Come on, Malroth,” Cora says. “Let’s help her out with these ants. We’ll talk with her about the village afterward.”

It looks like they have to be surrounded by at least forty or fifty ants. Malroth charges in with a yell, the girl screams “YOLO!”, and Cora runs at them as she pulls her new sword out.

The little beasties are annoying for sure – Malroth ends up with a couple bites despite his best efforts – but they’re only about as strong as slimes, if that. They’re dispatched easily within a couple of minutes and a lot of vicious swings from sword, stick and club.

The girl groans happily as the last ant is squished by Malroth’s club. “That was so lit!” she shouts with glee. “We totally crushed those ants! And I couldn’t have done it without this sweet cypress stick.” Turning to Cora with a grin, she says, “Thanks again. Anyways, you said you were a builder, right? What’s up with that?”

“We came looking for wheat seeds,” Cora explains. “There’s a big group of us banding together to try to rebuild Furrowfield Farm.”

“What? Get out of town,” the girl says.

“We just got here,” Malroth says, readying for a fight. “We aren’t going anywhere!”

“I didn’t mean, like, _literally_, jeez,” the girl says with a hearty eyeroll. “But, man. You’re totally going to get some, like, divine retribution for all this. The Master of Destruction will seriously smite you!”

“So we’ve been told,” Cora agrees, seeming more amused than anything.

“Still,” the girl continues, “You _deffo _seem to have a knack for this whole ‘building’ thing. The stick you made me is legit! Maybe building isn’t that bad after all…” Rummaging around in her pocket, the girl pulls out a hefty handful of wheat seeds and carefully gives them to Cora. “Here, take these. They’re, like, useless to me, but it sounds like you could use them.”

“Thank you!” Cora says. “Er…what did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t,” she says, “But it’s Britney. And I’m, like, a wicked-strong soldier.” She flashes a grin and folds her arms behind her head. “Are you guys heading back to the farm now?” When Cora nods, she asks, “Mind if I tag along? I totally want to see what these wheat seeds grow into!”

“You can come with us, but no breaking things,” Malroth insists. “We have enough of that to worry about already. If you’re coming, you’re building!”

“Yeah, okay,” she agrees easily. “Anyway, let’s go! Is it far?”

“Not far,” Cora says, grinning. “But it might take a while to get all these seeds you gave us planted! Let’s get a move on.”

…

Everyone greets their newest addition with excitement, the Furrowfield natives grilling her with questions about life as a Children of Hargon soldier while Cora rushes off to get the wheat seeds in the ground. “Well, now I’m all about being part of the BUILDren of Hargon!” Britney says, guffawing. “I am _so _looking forward to this. It’s gonna be so much fun telling those weirdoes in their stuffy old robes where they can stick their stupid rules!”

Bonanzo and Perry start quivering, Rosie freezing with her smile still in place. “Um, Britney,” she says. “About that –“

“Bold words indeed!” the pastor booms. “Will you still be so brave when the Master of Destruction shatters your arms and armor into a thousand pieces?” he asks, staff glowing orange.

“Waaah!” Britney cries. “It’s a stuffy robed weirdo!”

“Oh, put a sock in it, Pastor,” Malroth sighs. He wasn’t sure with just him and Cora, but after seeing the way Britney fought, he figures they’re probably pretty safe. “It’s OK, Britney, he pops off with this stuff every once in a while. But you, me and Cora could probably take him if anything really bad happened.”

“Why you!” the pastor shouts. He’s waving his stick around, but it’s green at the top now – Malroth thinks he’s learning to read him better. He bursts out laughing, Britney joins in, and even the pastor gives a few reluctant, nervous chuckles. “Ah, come on,” Malroth says. “We already have too many builders in this place. Us bashers gotta stick together.”

“You aren’t a builder too?” Britney asks.

“Nah. I stink at it!” Malroth jerks a thumb at Cora, deep in conversation with a very excited-looking Rosie. “But Cora’s amazing, and she’s my best friend, so as long as I got her, I think I really don’t have to worry about that. I just beat stuff up for her when it gets too close.”

“Rad.” Britney grins. “I guess you and me will be on the same team, then!”

Malroth cackles gleefully. He’s excited to have a partner in crime, at long last – and two of them means they can swap shifts being on guard duty. “Yep. I think this is gonna work out great.” He nods over at Rosie and Cora. “Let’s talk more later, and we’ll work out a plan for who guards who, and when. I wanna see what our resident chatterboxes are up to.”

…

With the plan for the wheat taken care of, Rosie and Cora are discussing how to fix the soil. Cora’s offering a variety of potential solutions – but Rosie seems to have tried almost everything to clean the soil, from irrigation systems to buckets of water to transplanting it elsewhere. “It’s no good,” she says. “I just can’t figure out why it’s not coming in clean. I mean, I _know_ why, the spoilspores soiled it, but I don’t exactly know what to do about that.”

“Yeah, there’s deffo not enough good soil around here,” Britney agrees. “Gonna be hard to farm that way.”

Rosie nods. “I may be the finest farmer in Furrowfield, but even I can’t conjure clean soil out of thin air,” she sighs.

“What about a wiggly?” Britney asks, shrugging. “I’ve heard this hot goss about a wiggly who lives somewhere near here…he’s part of this, like, tribe that can clean up spoiled soil. I hear he’s laying low in his burrow ‘cause the Children of Hargon were like, ‘I don’t think so, mate’.”

Rosie gasps. “You’re saying there’s a giant worm who can solve our soil problem? That sounds almost too good to be true!” She turns to Cora. “We should bring him here right away!”

“Say no more,” Cora says. “Malroth, you up for going on another little adventure? Britney can look after the village while we go hunt this wiggly down.”

“Hehe. With you?” Malroth flashes a toothy grin. “Any time. You just say the word, and we’ll head out.”

“We came in from the west, so let’s head east,” Cora decides. “Is it OK if we head out now? I’m hoping we can pick up some extra dry grass and cord along the way so I can make us some beds to use when we get back to town.”

“Yeah – but let’s take some greens for the road, in case we get hungry,” Malroth says. “In case it takes longer than we think.”

She laughs. “I got this bag from Rosie,” she says, “and I think she’s already one step ahead of us.” She opens it up to show Malroth the ten skewers of greens she has hidden away.

“Awesome,” Malroth says admiringly. He claps Cora on the shoulder. “In that case, let’s go!”

…

The wiggly’s burrow ends up being pretty far into the island, after umber and chalk gives way to soft, warm sand. It’s a great hiding spot, by Malroth’s eyes – all except for the fact that the Children of Hargon have already got the wiggly surrounded when they get there.

“We’ve finally found you, you spineless worm!” the skeleton says, which is, ultimately, kind of accurate. “We heard you’ve been making clean earth…and you know what the penalty for making things is around here!”

“I en’t done nothin’ wrong!” the wiggly protests. He’s wearing a sensible sun hat and scarf – all in all, it looks like he would make a pretty much perfect farmer. “It en’t my fault the soil comes out cleaner than it goes in, is it?” he asks.

“If you truly believed in our cause, you’d immediately destroy anything you made!” the skeleton shouts. “But you didn’t – and now you must be punished accordingly.”

“_No_!” Cora shouts, and before Malroth can even blink, leaps over in defense of the wiggly, who high-tails it underground into a suspiciously clean-looking patch of fresh earth. “You guys leave him alone!” she shouts. “He’s from a tribe of wigglies that make clean soil – do you seriously expect me to believe that his own biology is his fault?!”

“What?” The skeleton asks. Shaking his sword, he yells, “The Children of Hargon will not tolerate such fair-weather followers! Get her!”

Yeah, probably time for him to jump in. That’s OK; Malroth isn’t much of a stealth guy anyway. “You get away from her!” he yells, and the two of them dispatch the bedraggled-looking crew in short order. Their movements are almost perfectly in sync, to the point where Malroth nearly pities for the monsters they’re up against for just how pathetic they seem. The feeling quickly fades, though, and as the monsters disappear in a puff of blue smoke, Cora and Malroth exchange a terrific high-five, golden sparks shooting out from their clasped hands.

“Geddon!” the wiggly shouts triumphantly, popping up from the ground he’d been hiding in. “’Ee certainly made short work of them ‘orrid beasts what was ‘arassin’ me. Thank ‘ee kindly!”

“No trouble at all,” Cora says proudly. “I’m Cora, and this is Malroth,” she says.

“We’re over at Furrowfield Farm – we’re trying to rebuild the place and regrow the new Deitree,” Malroth explains. “We heard about a wiggly who could conjure up some earth out of spoiled soil, and were hoping you might be our guy.”

The wriggly gasps. “I sensed that big old tree was back!” he says. “I bin wrigglin’ all over the place lookin’ for it. It must be fate!” He gives a little bow. “I’m a wiggly – we’re an ancient tribe with the power to purify the earth. Or at least, we was. I’m the only one of us left now.”

“All the more reason for you to come with us!” Malroth says. “I can’t wait to see the looks on everyone’s faces when we bring back a giant worm.”

“Name’s Wrigley, by the way!” he announces. “And if we could get back to your farm before any more of the Children of ‘Argon turn up, that’d be luvverly.”

“Woohoo!” Cora beams. “Come on, let’s get going. We’ll need to hustle if we want to make it back before nightfall.”

…

By the time they crest the rise of the farm, the sun is low and massive in the sky, nightfall imminent. After a round of introductions and joyous celebrations, they head to the bonfires to put some more greens on to cook for dinner.

“Say, Cora,” Malroth says, chewing on his skewer thoughtfully. “There’s something about you that monsters are really tuned into, isn’t there? They all seem to really like you for some reason. Almost nothing attacked us on our way there.”

“What’d you run into?” Britney asks. When they tell her, she nods thoughtfully. “Oh, yeah,” she says. “Like, nobody knows why, but the wigglies, bodkins, and rats have always been kind to us humans here on Furrowfield.” She grins. “Hey, maybe if you ask around on your travels, you might find out!”

“Well, we wigglies’ve bin custodians of the soil ‘ere on Furrowfield since forever,” Wrigley explains. “It’s always bin our job to keep the dirt in good nick. I can’t wait to see the ‘ole place overflowin’ with life! Green from beach to bluff!”

“We can’t wait!” Cora says. “I know I should be tired, but I just feel so relieved. I feel like I’m ready to get started right now!”

“Why don’t I start by turnin’ some of this ‘orrid slime into nice clean earth?” Wrigley suggests. “Cora, where should I go first?”

“How about the earth around the scarecrows?” Cora asks, pointing. “It would be nice if we could keep the crop fields fairly close together. I think every square inch is going to count.”

“…I see! Sounds like a plan,” Wrigley says. “I’ll get started right away – there’s no time like the present, is there?”

The crew follows him over to the cabbage patch, watching with delight as every last inch of the surrounding spoiled soil is replaced row by row with fresh, clean earth. Everyone claps wildly when he’s done, and before their eyes, Furrowfield Farm suddenly has enough soil to plant the rest of the seeds, and plenty to grow on.

“Look at all this earth!” Rosie says. Her eyes are wide with wonder, and they fill with tears as she sits squarely on the ground and starts to cry. “Rosie,” Bonanzo says, scooping her up, and steadies her with an arm around her as Perry pats her on the back.

“I’m fine, I’m so much better than fine, in fact!” she sniffles, wiping her eyes. “I just – I can’t believe it! I think we even have enough soil to plant all five types of crops they used to grow here.”

“Oh!” Cora exclaims. “Were there more than just wheat and cabbages?”

“Oh, yes!” Rosie smiles. “Before the Deitree withered and died, they used to grow all sorts of different crops here, and hold a festival when they brought in the harvest.” She picks her head up, and then gasps as she points at the Deitree. “Oh! Cora, look!!”

Another bough of leaves pops up on the tree. “Oh, wow,” Malroth says. “That’s pretty incredible! I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like that.”

“It’s definitely a little bigger!” Cora agrees. She places her hands against the wood of the trunk, sighing happily. “It feels a little more powerful, too. Doing these tasks must really be doing the trick!”

“Standing before something so precious, I can barely contain the urge to destroy it utterly,” the pastor says. It should sound menacing, maybe, but in reality Malroth thinks he actually sounds pretty delighted.

“Now hang on a minute,” Malroth says. “When you first saw the tree, you said you had a change of heart. What was all that about?” he points out.

“S-Silence!” The pastor barks, sounding flustered. “I will not stand by and listen to your idle chatter when you have so much more still to do. Stop wasting time and get back to work!”

Cora giggles as the pastor leaves, stick stamping on the ground as he makes his exit. “He’s a funny guy, isn’t he?” she asks. “I’m glad he came to stay with us. You can almost feel him changing his mind about the whole Hargon business.”

Malroth grins at her. “Yeah. I think it’s just like you said before,” he agrees. “At first, I wasn’t so sure, but now I think you’re right. Just because he’s a monster – that doesn’t mean he’s a bad guy.”

Cora smiles at him. “For the record,” she says, “I’m glad you came along with me too. You may have a bit of a temper, but you’ve got a pretty open mind, and a good heart.”

“Aw, Cora,” Malroth whines. He buries his face in his hands, shaking his head. “Don’t just _say_ things like that! Quick, give me something to whack or I’m going to end up as squishy as you and Rosie.”

Cora gives him a lopsided grin. “Alright, alright,” she says. “You wanna do me a favor? Go flatten that hill.” She points to the north-eastern edge of the farm. “I can make chairs and tables now – I’m thinking about making a little dining room, right over there.”

“Yeah? So we can all eat together?” Malroth beams at her. “Cora, you’re a genius. As long as the first thing you make with the wheat is just for me!”

“Fair enough,” Cora agrees. She gives his shoulder a pat. “Go on, hop to it! I gotta make us some beds to sleep in before nightfall, or we’re gonna be in for a long, uncomfortable night.”

“Make mine soft, with lots of hay,” Malroth calls over his shoulder, waving his club in assent. “Hey, Britney! Come make yourself useful and help me knock this hill down!”

“You got it, basher buddy!” Britney calls, jogging over. “Your other best bud is on the case!”

Malroth can’t help but grin. If only Lulu could see them now – with this many people on board to rebuild the farm, the Deitree sprout beginning to flourish under their care, and them finding more new villagers every day, he has to imagine that Cora will easily be able to talk at least a few people into coming back to the Isle of Awakening with them, too.


	5. Out of the Bearded Barley

**Chapter 5: Out of the Bearded Barley  
** _Kiss Me – Sixpence None the Richer_

With Britney able to take the first shift, fired up about the new stone sword Cora talks her into taking, Malroth is actually able to eat dinner with everyone and head straight to bed. They’re all so tired that there isn’t much conversation – but there are a lot of smiles around the new dinner table Cora made for everyone, plopped in the center of floorboard that’s only missing walls, and even the pastor delicately takes a seat and pretends not to be pleased about sharing a meal with everyone.

It’s funny – as tired as he is, Malroth finds that as soon as he lies down, his eyes stay open. The hay is soft, and smells a whole heck of a lot better than stinky, sweaty farmers, but he stares out into the night and can’t sleep. It’s _loud _– Bonanzo snuffling, the clang of Britney’s sword against an enemy he should probably be out there fighting, Rosie occasionally tapping her foot softly against the floorboard in her sleep. He’s never been around so many people at once for so long, and he’s almost overwhelmed by the closeness of it all.

But – on the other hand – it’s nice, too. Furrowfield can get cold at night, but he’s got some extra straw between him and the wall, and Cora has rolled onto her side to gently push her head into the crook of his open arm, the heat of her body keeping him toasty-warm. She’s not exactly a still sleeper, but the way she shifts against him is somehow calming nonetheless.

“Noo,” Cora mumbles softly. Malroth raises his head a little, craning his neck to look at her – but she’s only dreaming, frowning as she turns into Malroth’s chest with a little nuzzle. “Stop snapping, quill.”

Malroth huffs a chuckle, and finally manages to fall asleep.

…

With the cabbages and fields seen to, the last thing they need to do before their next round of tasks for the Deitree is to wait for the wheat to come in. Rosie says they’re close, little green braids poking brightly out of the dark soil, but there really isn’t anything to do for them except to give them time.

Cora ends up deciding to spend the next four days building new structures. She expands the farmers’ bedroom, adding some farming tools and chests for storage, and builds some more torches to make guard duty against the light-averse spirits easier. After that, she finishes the dining room off with softwood walls and a bright red door, builds protective fencing around their fields, and adds a small barn, leaving a place for them to store their extra hay and produce.

Malroth helps out where he can, but it _is _difficult to find things to do when he’s better at destruction than building. The two bright spots in his days are the new stone axe that Cora builds him, his name caringly carved into the handle in neat, angular penmanship, and the hour or two they spend breaking down old structures for materials at the run-down ex-farm over the umber hills.

It’s at the run-down farm that they meet Clayton, who ends up being funny as hell, though Malroth gets the feeling that he doesn’t intend to be. He’s a terrific farmer, but also an extremely devout follower of Hargon, and spends most of the trip back to the farm alternately jumping for joy at having real fields to work, and tearing out his hair in disappointment over his own ‘weakness’ for tilling soil. He really only calms down when Malroth plops him in front of the pastor, who tells Clayton under no uncertain terms that he has to work the farm like his life depends on it – and, unable to resolve the internal conflict but equally unable to dream of ever questioning the pastor’s motives, Clayton heaves an extremely conflicted sigh and picks up a hoe.

It’s after Cora satisfies the last request from the townspeople that Bonanzo suggests that she ring the bell again. “The village has come so far – I have to imagine, as the resident builder-in-chief, that the Bell is once again set for striking,” he says.

“Oh?” Malroth raises an eyebrow. “Who died and made you the chief village idiot?”

Bonanzo barks a laugh. “My superb facial hair, of course!” He puts his hands on his hips. “None of you are fit to lead us until you can grow equally plush whiskers!”

“Cora won’t ever grow a mustache, and she’s way more fit to lead us than you! You ran away when Rosie wouldn’t give up after the spoilspore exploded!” Malroth protests hotly.

A loud clanging echoes behind them as Cora gives the bell a hearty ring. As she turns around, she bellows “Ho-ho-ho,” pulling her pigtails forward to overlap between her nose and her upper lip as if it had suddenly sprouted from her face. “What-what-what was that about not being able to grow a mustache, young man?” Cora asks.

Malroth looks at her and bursts out laughing, clutching his stomach and pounding his fists against the wood Bell frame. “Careful, careful,” Cora chides, dropping her hair as she laughs along. “I can’t fix that yet if you break it.”

“You could figure it out,” Malroth says, though he obligingly lifts his hands away from the frame. “But I’ll try not to.”

“Um, e-excuse me?” Malroth, Cora, and Bonanzo turn to see a young lady, wringing her hands nervously. Another man and woman are standing behind her, and the three are dressed head to toe in their best farming gear. “Could I ask…what's going on here?”

They exchange equally confused looks. “Well, farming, for starters,” Malroth says.

“F-F-_FARMING_?!” The man bellows. “See, I_ told _you,” the girl hisses.

Cora smiles and extends a hand to the young woman. “I guess you must be our neighbors?” she asks. “My name's Cora, and I’m a builder.”

The three look at her, look at her outstretched hand, and then quickly huddle together, having an slightly-audible discussion about ‘wheat,’ ‘sin,’ ‘that glowing tree,’ ‘Hargon,’ and ‘cabbages.’

“We've got a Hargon pastor, if you want to talk to him,” Bonanzo says, waving vaguely in the direction of the Deitree, where the pastor is hovering.

“You know, if you people are so concerned about the sin of farming in the first place…” Malroth asks, “Then why are you all dressed in farming gear?”

The trio flinches guiltily. “W-We were just curious!” the second woman shouts. “We’ve never seen partially-grown crops before!”

“Could see sprouts an' seeds ‘an such too,” Perry offers, having heard the Bell chime and wandered over. “If y' decided to stay an work.”

Clayton nods sagely, putting a consoling hand on the women’s shoulder. “Also,” he offers, “Though my very marrow recoils at the thought of betraying the Children…I did recently request a room to er, you know,” he says, gesturing vaguely in a squatting position with a pot shape. “And though I did not do so without the appropriate degree of suffering, I do find myself eagerly awaiting the outcome. So to speak.”

After all of the coercing and cajoling, they end up with three new farmers. As they’re chatting amiably with the pastor, Cora looks over at Malroth. “You know, I just finished that dining room.” She sighs, wiping her hands on her dress and surveying the building critically. “But I think I’ll have to knock this wall right back down again.”

“You’re expanding,” Malroth realizes, walking around and surveying the small room. “To add another dining table?”

“More chairs, too,” she agrees. “Sconces. We try to fit another table in this one, we'll be packed like sardines.”

Malroth nods, scratching the back of his neck. “You’ll probably need more wood,” he says. “If you’re expanding the floor and the rooms.”

Cora nods. “I think I have enough raw wood, but I need to make lumber out of the raw materials. I have a little left over from our other projects, but I also want to add a private bedroom for Bonanzo, and a public bathroom for Clayton.”

“What?!” Malroth pulls up short, looking back at her. “How come Bonanzo gets a private room?!”

Cora freezes, as if caught. “Er,” she says. “….He asked?”

“He _asked?_!”

“I don’t mind,” Cora says, blinking at him. “Why does it upset you?”

“He’s no better or worse at farming than the rest of us!” Malroth insists. “Why should he get to have his own room?!”

“Because he _asked_,” Cora repeats, slowly and carefully. “And we’re building morale, and his idea for building morale is to start making people their own personal spaces.”

“Yeah, starting with _his_!” Malroth folds his arms over his chest. “You haven’t even made yourself one!”

“Which means it will be a new and interesting challenge for me, as well as being something that makes someone else very happy,” she says. Frowning at him, she adds, “I still don’t understand what about this is bothering you so much. Do you want your own room, too?”

“No!” Malroth huffs, looking away from her. “I just – I want you to build things for yourself, too. You do too much for other people. And you never say no.”

“It’s all for me in the end.” Cora smiles at him. “I’m not doing anything I don’t want to do. Everyone is pitching in and contributing, and my contribution is mostly building and cooking, since that’s what we need here right now. Other people are good at the things I don’t like very much – tilling the fields, watering the crops, that kind of thing – so they do my share. And it all works out.”

“Still.” Malroth scowls, trying to articulate what it is he doesn’t like about it. “It’s selfish,” he says finally. “Everyone else here has asked for something that benefits all of us, except him. The first thing he asked for was something nobody else could use but him.”

“Yes, well.” Cora sighs. “The Children of Hargon have a lot to say on that topic, you know. About how building inspires selfishness and greed.”

Malroth frowns. So far, they’ve all been nutty as fruitcakes, but it’s the only thing they have to say that makes a nugget of sense to him. “It does when things are imbalanced.”

“I don’t think that’s actually the case.” Cora smiles at Malroth. “I understand how they feel sometimes. But I think building something unique, something personal, can also inspire the best in people. Creativity, passion, joy. Generosity, too.” She sets her hammer aside and sits on her workbench, looking out over the fields. “I don’t think it’s possible for people to live a life that’s truly fair. People are different, after all – their needs, their goals, the things they care about, the things they don’t.

“When someone sees something that inspires them, it’s natural that they want something similar for themselves,” Cora continues. “Envy is a negative emotion, but it’s one that can lead to good things – dreams, hard work, success.” She points at the new farmers. “Our newcomers are here because they saw the farm, and got jealous of our green, lush crops. But by now they’ve surely realized that it took hard work to overcome our situation, and that if they put their minds to it, they can become just as successful as every other farmer here is, if they’re willing to risk everything to have it, too.”

“So…” Malroth leans against the walls of the barn as he thinks. “You don’t think it’s true, what the Children are running around saying. That everyone becomes equal once everyone has nothing.”

“I just think they’re misguided,” Cora says, shrugging. “If the way to make people happy were to make sure that everyone is equal and everything is fair, they might be right. But think about how miserable everyone was when we first showed up. Everything was equal, but they didn’t feel like they had much to live for.”

“…I guess that’s true,” Malroth agrees. He’d never really given it much thought. He looks up at Cora. “Then what do you believe?”

Cora blinks at him. “What do I believe about what?”

“What do you believe makes people happy?” Malroth asks.

“Ah.” She rolls her shoulders back, stretching, and she’s quiet for a long time. Finally, she says, “I don’t know that happiness is the same size or shape for everybody. But I think, for me, I’m at my happiest when I remember to smile and feel grateful.”

“Well, you must have it really figured it out,” he teases. “You’ve got that dopey grin on your face all the time.”

“You know what? I think I do,” Cora agrees, easy and unbothered. “I like to work hard. I like quiet mornings when I wake up with the sun, before everyone else starts to wake up. I like when everyone eats the food and sleeps in the buildings I make. I like the smell of the ocean. I feel grateful when the people I care about are safe and happy. I feel grateful that I can fall asleep next to my friends and feel proud of how far we’ve come.”

“Ha!” Malroth grins at her. “All that stuff makes you happy? It’s like you were _made_ to be a builder or something.”

“You know, I think you might be onto something there,” Cora teases. She knocks her heels against the edge of her workbench, leisurely and unhurried. “That’s why I don’t mind if Bonanzo wants to have the biggest room on the island, if that’ll make him happy,” she says finally, circling back to the kernel of their argument. “It all comes back to me, in the end. Seeing my friends’ faces light up when I make them something that suits them – that makes me happy, too.”

“Hm.” Malroth relaxes, gazing out at the fields of wheat. They look distinctly yellower than before, standing tall and proud against the soiled landscape. His best friend really is a pretty amazing person. “You know, I think you’ve got a good way of looking at things,” he says. “If building him a bedroom is going to make you happy, then I guess I’ll shut up and get out of your way.”

Cora grins at him. “Yeah?”

Malroth nods. “Just looking out for number one, like I said.” He shrugs. “Never really thought about it that way, but I guess seeing that doofy smile on your face makes me pretty happy, too.”

She laughs, cheeks pink. “That’s the spirit,” she says, and leans over to pat his shoulder.

…

In the morning, the wheat is a beautiful shade of golden yellow, and ready to harvest. Cora swipes at it with joyful abandon, Rosie and Perry hurrying to gather the fallen sheaves and stuffing them into her pack. “We’re going to bake so much bread tonight!” Rosie cries.

Only seconds after her delighted outburst, another bough of the Deitree bursts alive, bright green leaves sprouting out of the last formerly bare branch. “Look!” Bonanzo shouts, clutching his head and waving at the tree. “It’s – well – it’s a full tree!”

The pastor beckons them all over, congratulating them on a job well done and letting them know that they, as well as they’ve done, they are _nowhere _near done completing the tasks needed to bring the tree back to its full glory.

Malroth tunes in for as long as he can, but he can’t ignore the dark feeling crawling up the back of his spine, the aura rippling around the ground and rocketing ever closer. “Don’t celebrate too soon,” he murmurs as an aside to Cora. “I don’t know if it’s the tree you’ve grown or the bell you keep ringing, but something’s got the monsters in a seriously bad mood.”

Cora gives him a grim nod. “Don’t worry,” she says. “I’ve been preparing for this confrontation. Tell Britney – she’ll get the swords.”

“The enemy’s closing in!” Malroth bellows. “Weapons, everyone! Let’s get out there and cause some carnage!”

Malroth isn’t sure whether they’re all stronger from all of the farming, desperate to defend the village, or just facing super-wimpy monsters, but they dispatch the rabble pretty handily. A few bruises and scrapes here and there, and Bonanzo’s missing half an inch of chin hair on one side, but on the whole everyone is fine and well. He and Cora leap into the air for a joyous high-five, the usual golden effervescence surrounding them, and they squeeze each other’s hands as they nod at each other.

The pastor bustles over, inspecting everyone as his mask bobs up and down with worry. “Everyone!” he shouts. “Are you – is everyone alright?”

“We’re okay, Pastor,” Cora says, wrapping a strip of cloth around a scratch on Britney’s arm. “Thanks for asking.”

“You – you snake!” Perry shouts. “Those monsters were ‘Argon!”

“Yeah!” Bonanzo folds his arms over his chest. “Called your friends over, did you?”

“Now, hold on just a minute,” Rosie chides. “Let’s not go jumping to conclusions. The pastor’s been here with us the whole time. Even if he’d wanted to pass a message to the monsters, I don’t know that he could’ve.”

The pastor heaves a deep sigh. “Rosie, yes?” He tips his head to the side. “Tell me, Rosie. Why are you so desperate to see Furrowfield Farm rebuilt?”

Rosie shakes her head. “I don’t really have a good reason. It’s just…always been my dream.”

“She’s a romantic,” Cora says, exchanging a wink with her.

“I see…” the pastor mutters. He trails off, wandering away from the group. Malroth watches him go curiously, but he thinks Rosie’s onto something. The pastor has no reason to want the Children to show up at this point, not when he would be the natural first choice for any suspicion of being a double-agent.

As Rosie gathers everyone to assign bread-baking duties, Malroth turns to Cora. “You know, I didn’t get a chance to say anything earlier,” he says. “But what you’ve done with this tree is pretty impressive already. When it first appeared, it was nothing more than a weedy sapling. Just goes to show how powerful your building skills are.”

Cora gives him a slight smile, but she still doesn’t look as happy as she should. “I’m just worried,” she says. “Something we’re doing is obviously starting to garner attention from the Children. When the unit they sent today doesn’t return…”

“You’re worried they’ll come back?” Malroth asks.

“I’m confident they will. And there’s also the fact that…” She puts her chin in her hand. “I’ll confess, I was under the impression that Hargon was already defeated by the Scions of Erdrick, and their forces were scattered. I have no idea how they managed to create such a stranglehold on this island.”

Malroth frowns. “That is weird,” he says. “There’s something fishy going on, for sure. I can’t put my finger on it, but something doesn’t feel right.”

Cora hums thoughtfully, heaves a deep sigh, and then visibly brightens as she sniffs the air. “Hey,” she says. “You smell that? They must have started baking!”

“Cora! Malroth!” Britney calls, waving her arms wildly. “You’ve got to see this _bread_ Rosie’s making! It’s, like, so fluffy-looking!”

“Oh, man,” Malroth says, holding his stomach as it rumbles. “You guys better not eat all the loaves before I get there!” he shouts.

“They won’t,” Cora says confidently. She digs around in her pack, coming up with a toasty-looking oblong loaf, three long strips cut diagonally across the top. “Here. I did promise you the first one.”

Malroth looks up at her, wide-eyed – and then doesn’t hesitate, snatching the loaf from her and stuffing the entire thing in his mouth, chewing madly. He utters a satisfied groan as the fresh, yeasty flavor hits his mouth. “Uf, tho good,” he says around a mouthful of soft bread. He chews a little more, gulps the rest down, and pats his belly contentedly. “When did you make this?” he asks. “I didn’t even see you put it on the fire.”

“Made it while Britney was grabbing the swords,” she admits, grinning. “I thought you might be hungry after battle, and, well.” She lifts a second loaf out of her pack. “...I’m starving, myself!”

Malroth huffs a laugh. “Alright, hungry,” he says. “Let’s go eat with everybody instead of stuffing our faces out here by ourselves. Maybe we should have a taste-off!”

“Mmm,” Cora says, licking her lips. “That can _only _have a delicious outcome.”


End file.
